Reap And Sow
by SteelAgainstIvory
Summary: Hey Bunny fans-Miss me? CHAPTER FOURTEEN IS HERE! Kenny, in the midst of terrors and horrors and general badass-ory, is doing his best to save Butters. You'll be surprised by what awaits our hero this time... !Warning: Sitting on the Edge of the Seat Can be Dangerous, So Buckle Up for this Tolkien-Inspired Ride!
1. Prologue

**A/N: **UPDATED AS OF **January 30, 2008**

So, I originally wrote this at, like three in the morning, it has actually been an intelligible idea just wafting through my head for the last year or so. I thought to myself how emo and otherworldly, yet somehow still cracky I could make Kenny. Oh and Butters. I wuv Butters. Yet, I don't have a damn Title…

**Warning:** Gay stuff. Lots of it. And random bits of … supernatural.

**Disclaimer:** Me love South Park long time! Me no own though… me sigh.

**Summary:** Mix a bit of Supernatural, GhostBusters, Danny Phantom, and maybe The Dead Zone and you won't even come close to this cracky story. Which is just an excuse to write some KennyxButters love action. R&R and I may… do stuff.

**Remember:**

"Blah" – Speech

_Blah_ –Thoughts

Blah – Self Explanatory

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

PROLOGUE

You know those stories where the main guy introduces himself? He's a super cool guy, all normal and kind and what not? He's got a nice family, awesome friends, maybe even a love interest? You find out in the prologue he's hiding a secret. He's a super hero. Almost like Spider-Man or Bat-Man. He can, like, fly, see into the future, and dodge bullets? Oh yeah—you freaks know what I'm talking about.

That isn't the way my story happens at all.

My name is Kenny McCormick. I suck at school, I'm a nympho, and I'm the poor kid in a small town where the craziest shit happens. Smallville and Supernatural combined kind of shit.

However, I do have a kind of cool super hero power. In fact, my friends and I are a crack team put together by the son of the devil. That's correct, THE devil. Are we evil, you ask? I doubt it… well, Cartman might be… no, no, he is evil. The selfish evil though.

If that helps.

Err—pressing forward.

It all began simply. At the end of fifth grade, all hell broke lose. Satan got back together with an old lover, who then imprisoned him in ice, and tries the damnedest (haha, that could almost be a pun) to take over the world with renegade demons and the like. So Damien, in his infinite girly scream, ordered me and my friends to fix the problems up on Earth.

I know, right?

Suffice to say my ability to regenerate and come back to life led me to infect and bring out my closest friends' hidden qualities, making us the prefect and oh-so cliché "Ghostbusters" and (the like) team. Damn me and my sexiness.

The set up is simple. So please, follow with me…

Cartman is actually a psychic. That fall to the head in fourth grade really did do something to him. He gets the vision of whatever horrid thing is wreaking havoc on our mortal plane. After we find out our target from Cartman we go straight on to Kyle.

The Jew is a fucking genius. He does the research work and goes through the books and internet and finds out about all parties involved and hotspots and all kinds of different stuff I am terrible at. For example, were a vampire-like creature might hang out in the daylight. Without him, we would be lost in fog.

So then there is Stan; the boy is an empath (pussy). He gets sent out to the field. He takes all the energy and finds out who and what exactly I might be dealing with. Let's say we find out something is hiding in a church yard, Stan would be able to detect the slightest malicious intention and could point me at the most likely priest. The guy is also a wonderful lie detector. Comes in handy more often than not.

Finally we go through me. I do reconnaissance. I am the one that goes out and fights off whatever demon or misguided spirit we've been searching for. Normally I die more than once. I've been burned, lost limbs, gone blind, and—my favorite when dealing with those damn succubus bitches—castrated.

I almost hate my life, but it's not boring.

Anyway, that's basically what I do for a living. Or maybe it's a hobby… The thing is I'm not a super hero. Not your average one, in the least. I don't really know if I have to do it, or I'm obligated to, but I figure, why not? No one else is stepping up to the challenge.

Other than that, I go to school—and fail—and I go one dates. I have a family. I got some great friends. I'm a lazy bisexual slut. My name is Kenny.

Oh, and that other blond boy over there? His name is Butters.

I happen to be terribly smitten with him.

It just so happens, too, that Eric Cartman called me on cell 2 and half minutes after I got home from my lovely trip to hell at 3:16 in the morning to tell me that Leopold "Butters" Scotch will approximately die in one week due to a water demon strangling him under Stark's Pond.

Oh **fuck** me… This is going to be a wonderful assignment.


	2. Improv Please

**A/N: **Had to write, don't ya just hate that??? Love the title! I came up with it after watching Reaper. HA! I don't often watch it (believe it or not o.0)

**Warning:** Gay stuff. Lots of it. And random bits of … supernatural.

**Disclaimer:** Me love South Park long time! Me no own though… me sigh.

**Summary:** In which you meet Kenny… despite the prologue. SMILE!

**Remember:**

"Blah" – Speech

_Blah_ –Thoughts

Blah – Self Explanatory

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CHAPTER ONE—Improv Please

You've heard that expression right? The one about "reaping what you sow"? Basically it says that you have to deal with whatever you've done in life. Sounds simple. Don't do your homework; suffer on the test on Friday. That is how life works.

So can someone explain to me why the FUCK that phrase got turned around in my life?!

I'm sowing what I reap. Literally.

Then I have to reap what I've sown later. Figuratively.

I was up late last night because I had to catch a zombie. Yes, a goddamned zombie. It bit me twice and I freaked out for hours thinking I was going to become one of them. Just before I kill myself, Stan's uncle Jimbo has to go and shot it through the fucking head calling out, "Look! The skinny bears coming right at us!"

I still killed myself. It's just not fair. Damien was down in Hell, laughing so hard he nearly pissed himself. So I threatened to tell Pip, to which the bastard scowled and said he would hold me in Hell for two extra hours. And he did. ASSHOLE.

I didn't even have time to rest up for school. I just threw on a new jacket, cringing as my hair felt much too greasy on the top of my head and much too long in front of my eyes. I had to run to school, missing the bus. It was my luck that Stan and Kyle had to bring up the damned oral presentation in English.

Which they actually brought up IN the stupid class.

Of course, when I mention this to the teacher, giving my dumb ass excuse he thinks I made up—but I'm not—all he can fricking say is, "Could you at least improv, please?"

IMPROV?!

What am I in? Acting class? Gah… pussy wanna-be little drama queens… So I close my eyes. Improv what? What's the topic…? Oh! How You Know You're In Love! This is, of course, all because Valentine's Day is just a week or so away.

Great… so how do I know when I'm in love…?

Well…

"Lil' Kenny will always stand up for ya?"

"Thank you Mr. McCormick, you've just failed."

DAMN.

So I go back to my seat dejected. As soon as my ass is in the seat I have to hear Butter's adorable stutter to absolutely no one in particular, "I-I think courage is a g-good trait when you know you're in l-love."

DOUBLE DAMN.

Needless to say, I do something anime geeks all over the globe do with yaoi mangas, nosebleed to death.

TRIPLE DAMN.

Damien still won't stop laughing. I still won't stop threatening. He still won't let me go home on time. I'll still have work in the morning. Butter's still won't get it. I still gush to death. Rinse, lather, repeat bitch.

That's just my life. Welcome to it…

**TBC**

A/N: This was almost like a different version of the prologue. Oh well. Anyways, I just wanted to write something. I gotta go to bed though… least I reap what _I_ sow.

Frick me… It's not revised, I'll do it later.

That has to be one of the dirtiest (even though I've written lemons) chapter in the whole of my fan fic stories. PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK!!!!!!!!!!


	3. Say Cheesy

**A/N: **Booooooooooooooooredom. Need to do homework… but must write!!! Oh and I am responding to my reviews… Don't ask why.

To **Willa**: I know! Butters is so frigging adorable!!!!!!! And I also doubt I'll be constant. –tear-

To **Matchstick Fighter**: Glad you enjoy. I like writing it too 

To **Sweet Possum**: Awww, you are a sweetheart. Actually, I doubt I will make it a novel, I currently have seventy-thousand-one-million-carillon story ideas I am writing out. My head is way too full.

To **Otempora42**: Lol, no, no. He actually did die of a nosebleed. Unfortunately for him I think it's a fricking hilarious way to end up dying. I always worry about those anime characters. They gush enough blood they really shouldn't be alive anymore.

Also note please: I hate OOC-ness too. However, I don't know how in character Kenny and everyone else is since they are not MY characters. All I can promise is they won't be all… uber-gay and "I love you so and my heart is yours and take my virginity now!"

Though I might be wrong. No, I'm just messing with you. I'm trying real hard to stay with in certain lines of the characters… whatever they may be.

**Warning:** Gay stuff. Lots of it. And random bits of … supernatural.

**Disclaimer:** Me love South Park long time! Me no own though… me sigh.

**Summary:** In which Damien makes his grand appearance!

**Remember:**

"Blah" – Speech

_Blah_ –Thoughts

Blah – Self Explanatory

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

CHAPTER TWO—Say Cheesy

Okay, I hate bleeding to death. Especially when bleeding from the nose. It's just gross. That and when I fall millions of stories into the underbelly of Hell, the blood doesn't like to stop flowing despite DEATH it seems. Truthfully, I hate it with a passion. Blood, I mean.

As soon as I hit my ass across the blazing rocky surface of the drop in area, I roll away. A couple of seconds after that, my blood splats on the ground behind me, startling a few other nasty people who just died and covering them in my sticky red fluid. That made me laugh, giving me a little good humor to absorb before Damien becomes notified of my arrival in Hell.

Sure enough, as I'm wiping a stray tear from my eye, a bat winged demon meets me, ushering me toward the castle in Hell. I sigh and wipe off as much of the coagulated liquid from my shirt as possible. I sneeze once, shaking my head and hitting the demon with a couple of drops of blood. I didn't think he noticed, so I wasn't going to say anything to him.

We walked down some of the "Liars and Hypocrites" circles of Hell before we came to the gothic Transylvanian castle located in a mote of fire. Screams littered the putrid air and I quickly scratched the inside of my ear, ignoring the pleas and cries like always.

The demon gave me a pat on the back and flew off. I sighed and awaited the draw bridge to let me into the damned place. Once I was inside, the air was much colder, meaning it had to be maybe around 90 degrees. Shadows danced about in the corners creepily, but I was unfazed and made my way to the throne room. Damien had somewhat of a flare for the dramatics when it came to being the Prince of Hell.

"Here a little early aren't you?" his baritone voice rang out. Honestly, it made any guy jealous. I grit my teeth, fed up with the snaky attitude he kept showing me. I took down a zombie for Christ's sakes! Okay, **I** didn't, Jimbo did, but still!

I glowered at him as he lazily sat across his throne of skulls and ebony. He was wearing all black, like always, his pale skin illuminated in the orange glow of the flames around this place. His dark hair curled just a bit and his red irises were present today, as well as smirking fangs. From his chest hung an ironic golden cross, gleaming dangerously at me.

"You look uncharactistically excited," I grumbled, crossing my arms. Damien raised an eyebrow and swung his legs from over the left armrest and onto the ground in front of him.

"I had some good news just before you got here," he answered with a shrug. I uncrossed my arms and took a few more steps forward, the spacious room echoing the movement.

"About the Lover?" I questioned. The Lover is, of course, Satan's lover who imprisoned him in ice. However, we don't know which lover it was. If we knew that, Damien would be going out of his mind trying to locate the bastard (or bitch, but knowing the Devil…).

"Exactly!" the Anti-Christ replied with a grin. I felt like at any moment, I could swoon. After years of this abuse, it might finally end soon!

"Well, well! Who is it?!" I demanded, jumping up and grabbing the asshole by the lapels of his shirt. Damien sighed and flicked me on the nose. It bled a little and I automatically stepped back to bend over and make sure the blood wouldn't travel down my throat and into my mouth. The taste of blood was way too horrible for me. Like eating a penny.

"Calm down. I don't know," he said with a sigh. I frowned and stood upright, forgetting about the blood and getting a mouthful of change. I spit it out real quick and plugged up my nose.

"Don't get me excited like that!" I whined, sounding nasally. Damien rolled his eyes and motioned for me to follow him. He took me over toward the "Observing Room" where he could monitor all the humans on Earth. A gigantic ball—as black as crow feathers—spinning in the air above a volcanic pit flickered to life as Damien gestured his hand over it.

The shiny surface expanded and a reflection of my town wavered in the heat. I pointed stupidly and commented the obvious, "That's South Park." Damien, however, took it in stride and told me to look just beyond it and into the high mountain woods. I gasped as I saw something burrow up from the snow snarling and twisting its head. Red claws spurted from the ground and the creature wiggled it's way up jerking it's head around. "What the hell is an _imp_ of all things doing in my town?!"

"Just watch…" Damien commanded, voice growing darker. Flicking back to his face and then the reflection I did as he requested. In due course the imp found its way to my high school. I could feel a scowl mar my face as it skipped up into windows and glance around furtively before hopping to another one. It finally found the window it was looking for as it licked its lips in glee and smooched on the frosted pane.

I spied the son of Satan as he quickly lifted a finger or two and the observation backed out enough to see the class room was Kyle's third period English room. I cursed and stepped forward as Kyle twitched just then. The Jew gazed over his shoulder, but missed the imp as it jumped down and held the windowsill. My friend shook his head and went back to taking notes. Damien closed up his hand and the observation died.

"Why's it looking for Kyle?" I asked. The raven put his hands in his pockets and gave me the "Are we just stupid today?" Look.

"Think about it, Kenny," he directed. I scratched at my blond locks helplessly. "Imps are extremely low-leveled and less than intelligent demons. We always use them to help us locate certain people or to grab information."

"So… it found Kyle," I began thinking, tilting my head thoughtfully. "That means it was sent to find Kyle… or maybe Stan, Cartman, or…" I stopped and focused my attention back to the Anti-Christ. "It's looking for me."

"That's our best bet," he answered with a grin. I scowled and felt like kicking something.

"So if it's looking for me, and it's a demon, it knows I am working for you and am putting away the bad guys. That means then the biggest bad guy must be controlling the imp," I muttered. Damien gave a quick thumbs up sign. Groaning he again suggested I trail behind him. Together we shambled out of the room and decided to head down to the dinning room.

"I want you to capture it and find out who wants to find out about you," Damien ordered as he sat at the head of the table, a crackling fireplace behind him. I parked my ass way at the opposite end, waving away the butlers and maids. I wasn't terribly hungry for raw flesh at the moment.

"You thinking it will ultimately lead to the Lover," I guessed. Damien nodded and had a waiter fill his glass with a dark liquid. I assumed it was either blood or wine, but I had no intention of finding out about the demonic menu and what it really consisted of.

"It's the closest we've ever gotten before. You four have done fantastic in capturing the escapees and fallen angels," the raven explained, swishing his glass around. "I can only assume the Lover has gotten fearful you boys will only find him next."

"Or her," I corrected without thinking. Then simultaneously we sighed and thought aloud, "Doubt it."

"Anyways," my boss carried on, "I recently spoke to God, and when this whole thing is sorted out, you four will have spot as a choir of angels all to yourselves when you pass away."

"Seriously?!" I stood up and exclaimed. Damien took a sip of his drink (don't think about it! Pretend its Kool-Aid!) and once again gave me a positive nod.

"As you know it's terribly hard to get into Heaven. In fact he had cast a couple of nice humans out. Fortunately they weren't Mormon so it's—"

"Ahhh, I know; one of them was Pip, huh?" I taunted and Damien, who was about to take a taste from his glass again, spilled the liquid in his lap. The Prince of Hell glowered at me for a second.

"If he was?" he inquired, tone getting colder deceptively betraying the fire in his eyes. I gave a nervous chortle and slid down in my seat.

"N-Nothing, I just mean, good going man! Y-Yeah… hahaha… ha?" I poised, hand rubbing the back of my neck as I thought about how I could get out of this one. Then I snapped my fingers and felt like an idiot for not remembering sooner. "Speaking of Pip, I have some more pictures for you."

Damien's face brightened as I pulled out my manila envelope. I slid it down the mahogany table and the demon quickly reached out and flipped open the top.

You see, Pip and I are in the same photography class. We normally partner up and use each other as subjects. Everyday I always keep one folder with me in case I die. They're meanings of peace offering to Damien on bad days or just whenever really.

The Anti-Christ's face was twisted into the kind of expression you might see on a dirty old man. To be honest, it was creepy, all this joy he got from just fricking pictures of the little unknowing British boy. It made me almost want to save Pip—a fellow blond—but I decided against it earlier on.

"Dude, I'm serious," I said as I watched him examine each photo carefully. "You are way too obsessive about poor Pip." Damien paused long enough to look at me with a baffled face.

"Didn't you die today because you had a massive nose bleed induced simply by Butters' innocent comment?" he asked. I glared at him meaninglessly. The bastard had me there. Then he was back to staring longingly at Pip. I heaved a moan and went about drawing crude things on the table.

Hell sucked.

A lot.

I went to the "Rebirthing Room" at around three in the morning. Things were apparently busy there… I stepped into the awful tube like thing in the middle of a bright white room—the only place cheery in Hell.

Behind a huge Plexiglas screen, a couple of regular looking humanoid demons pressed a button and their voice filled the room magically. "Now close your eyes and imagine the setting back on Earth you wish to be reborn in…" I closed my eyes and thought about the community pool. It was easier to be born in water for some reason.

"Got it," I informed. The guys on the other end went about pushing buttons and doing random stuff I never really cared about when they explained the process to me fourteen zillion times. A humming went on around me and I sighed, letting the tension drain before they could tell me.

The humming got louder and all the air in the tube suddenly became vacuumed. My skin felt tight around me and the tiny hairs on my body stood on end. I waited until I felt the floating feeling and those stupid placid voices from beyond telling me to drift upward toward a light.

Then, instead of drifting, I sprang with all my strength, bypassing rebirth and regeneration, and heading straight for just life. It's weird to think about because I just **do it.** Being reborn, I mean. I always have come back and probably always will until I eventually become an angel (which I gotta tell the guys as soon as I can!).

Instantly, I bubble up, realizing I'm in the pool already. I begin coughing under the water. I bend down, feeling my sneakers hit the nine foot bottom. I kick off, soles slipping, and start stroking upwards. Cold air and fresh oxygen slap my face harshly and I continue to hack up for a couple more minutes. I swim over to the edge of the pool, shaking the water out of my eyes, the wet hair sticking in curls to my cheeks.

"Damn…" I sighed. I propped myself on the edge of the pool, water darkening the cement as it spread out from my arms. I panted lightly, getting use to being alive again. I set out my arms and pull myself out of the water. Sopping wet, I wrung out my t-shirt, feeling the effects of living in a small, snowy mountain town. I shivered and zipped up my jacket, quickly making my way back to my house.

Butters' house was on the way there.

So I paused just outside his window. I sighed, knowing he wouldn't be up this late at night. Yet, I still couldn't contain the urge to climb up the tree and onto the branch that practically sat outside his window. It was open and the yellow curtains ruffled in the breeze. I wrapped my arms around myself and rubbed.

I peeked in his room, seeing the scrawny boy huddled up under his big comforter. _Stupid, you're going to catch a cold_… but sitting on his desk from across his bed in plain view was a pair of jeans a great deal too large for him and a red shirt and orange hoodie. With my chin in my hands I shook my head. Idiot. _I'm gonna get the wrong idea if you keep doing this…_

It was almost a natural thing for me. Sneak in to see Butters sleeping peacefully; find a pair of clothes waiting for me to change into. Butters and I know each other pretty well… but not close enough that he should do these things for me. He's way too kind for his own good.

I sighed and stripped out of my freezing, soaking clothes after tip-toeing into his room. I felt kind of guilty as my shoes made a squelching noise from all the water. I took them off and set them on them window edge, yanking off my socks. Goosebumps traveled all over my body and I swiped the jeans up, practically melting as I realize they were just in the dryer.

I stepped into them, buttoning it up and zipping the fly closed. Next I tugged on the shirt, feeling it rub over my chest a little tightly. It would keep me warmer though. I tossed on the hoodie, smiling to myself and stealing a pair of cute little toe socks in bubblegum pink with blue poka-dots that I noticed in the hamper.

I sat down on the edge of Butters bed with caution as I tied up my denim converse taunt. Some water managed to seep through the socks, but it didn't really bother me as bad as before. I went about to folding my soiled clothes and putting them on the broken fold out chair when the boy in the bed shifted, whimpering in his sleep. I watched for a second, letting the items in my hand plop down, and then kneeled before his bed so I could see his cherubic face better.

Brushing back a few strands of his flaxen hair, I let the knuckle of my fingers smooth out his brow. Almost immediately Butters let out a breath, the misty, hot air teasing my palm. I smiled, which was useless because he couldn't see it and only I would know, but I did anyway. I couldn't help it.

"Pleasant dreams, love," I murmured and let my lips rest on the top of his fluffy head longer than any platonic feelings manifesting themselves should.

I left and closed his window for him. Meandering homeward bound, I felt my pocket vibrate. I glanced down as I brought out my brick of a cellphone and pressed the green phone button that equals "answer."

"Kenny, I had a vision," Cartman said as way of greeting. I looked both ways before crossing the street and switching the phone to my other ear.

"What is it this time, papa bear?" I queried. I could barely glimpse my dinky house in the suffocating darkness that was nighttime in such a tiny town. The stars were glittering quite satisfactorily with a dirty tangerine half moon dangling overhead.

"Well, I don't know if you are going to like what I have to say," Cartman stated. I felt a chuckle ease its way over me as I leapt up onto the side walk; scouting around for my run down shack of a house.

"I think that'll be rather difficult, lard-o, I have some absolutely fabulous news!" I felt like squealing in a pansy sort of fashion. I might have, but I'll deny the fact should Eric bring it up later.

"Really? What could possibly be so great?" the psychic humored me in a deadpan tone. I spotted my house as the porch light flickered on and off as bugs got a bit too close and then backed off of the sensor.

"Well, first off, we might be finding the Lover relatively soon," I explained, muted as I checked around to make sure no one could hear anything. Like they would. This time at night everyone was asleep and any demons or angels wouldn't bother with such a low-down run of the mill part of a poor town.

"Really?! Hella cool!" Cartman, this time, did squeal. And I will bring it up tomorrow.

"Yeah, and check this shit out," I built up as I sauntered up my driveway, fishing for my keys to the front door. "We've done such a job here on Earth; God is going to make us angels!"

"Oh no fucking way!" Eric shouted, causing static in my phone. I back it away from my ear until he calmed down just a bit. "Damn straight we get to be angels with all the crap I've put up with... The only bad part is the Jew's gonna be coming along too…" I could just image the sulking fat ass at his desk.

"Well, God's only son is Jewish too. I'm sure it's just to make things even up there," I joked and stuck my key in the lock. I turned it softly, the click almost inaudible as a car past and lit up everything as I opened the door. "But I'll tell you more later. I just got home. Give me the quick version of what you saw." My voice grew softer and I shut the door warily.

"Right, right!" my friend brought himself back up to speed and I heard the telltale whizzing of his computer being shut off for the night. He must have just sent Kyle an email. "Well, it's a water demon of some kind… And anyways, she's gonna kill."

"Damn! Do we know who she targets?" I asked, the seriousness settling in. Eric breathed deeply.

"Butters."

And that was when I dropped my phone.

"Oh **Goddamit** all!"

**TBC**

**A/N**: I know seven pages isn't too much in one chapter, but dang man, there are large paragraphs (for me that is) that make up for it.

Kenny must have a lot to say in my mind. That and I stuff him up with so much description of really retard things… But anyways…

Cartman isn't so very evil in this story.

I always image Damien and Kenny hanging out together down in Hell when Kenny dies. I also imagine Damien likes to be all "I'm cool and gothic and totally an ass but I have this other side I would only show to Pip because I love him so and emo-ending is inserted right here!" (this is all said in an annoying voice that is kind of sing-songy)

For some reason I like Kenny's personality and this is just what I assume he does… Or my fingers do. They type away most of the time. I have the ideas but they do all the work. That is the way I roll baby. Got a problem with that?


	4. Poor In More Than One Term

**A/N: **So I don't know what is happening with this story… I never really know what's going on in reality though XD

To **Matchstick Fighter**: Sorry it took so long to come out. I'm not regular –sad face-

To **Willa**: I love cuteness! People often call me "chibi" and I wuv Butters' socks too!!!

To** iluvkenny**: Lol, I particularly loved your comments. It gave me such happy, warm, and fuzzy butterfly feelings! )

**Warning:** Gay stuff. Lots of it. And random bits of … supernatural.

**Disclaimer:** Me love South Park long time! Me no own though… me sigh.

**Summary:** In which Kenny's day just gets progressively worse…

**Remember:**

"Blah" – Speech

_Blah_ –Thoughts

Blah – Self Explanatory

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

CHAPTER THREE—Poor In More Than One Term

I woke up, blinking up at my water stained ceiling, and I forgot exactly how. I don't know if I fell asleep or if I was always awake. Either way, cold sweat was rolling down my body and the shirt I was wearing was starting to suffocate me. Groggily I pulled my legs over my banged up futon on the dusty floor and swayed to get my balance. I took off the orange hoodie (the shirt came with it was so tight) and threw it down on the bed, noting my big fuzzy blanket was nowhere in sight.

Sighing, I meandered into the living room, rubbing my face. I scratched at my head, feeling the clotted locks and realizing there was much too chlorine in it from being reborn in the town pool. I blanched and made my way past the kitchen, out the screen door to the backyard. The lines for air drying our clothes waved in the wind. I yanked down a striped blue and white beach towel—thank the Lord it wasn't alive—then headed back inside ignoring the frosty atmosphere.

Yawning, I sluggishly made my way to the bathroom where I hoped into the shower. It was covered in mildew because it wasn't real tile. The shower curtain was nonexistent and it was about as holy as the Vatican Church in Italy… or was it Rome…?

Damn, maybe it was the same place…

I need to study more.

After shampooing and conditioning my beautimous golden hair, I scrubbed my body; relishing the fact every time I was reborn I had the most amazing skin… If only I could love myself!

Wait—I can!

I heard the front door open and cursed. I shut off the water, feeling the back of my neck grow cold as the fine hairs catch the last bits of the shower droplets. Jumping up, I nearly slipped on the fake flooring as I hurriedly threw on the beach towel. I cringed, noting it wasn't as clean as I previously thought. I wrenched open the door in time to see my pops stumble in, singing an Irish drinking song… or that was what it was reminiscent of. You really couldn't tell after a while.

The thing of the matter was Pop always comes home around 7:03 in the morning after drinking all night. In my slow gate of travel I could walk to the bus stop in half an hour. The bus leaves at 7:09 in the morning. Most of the time I sleep in and leave home around 6:45 or 7 on the dot depending on what happened the previous night. It only takes me about 45 minutes to an hour to walk to the high school from my neighborhood. School starts at 7:45 am. The late bell rings at 7:55. After that it is straight to study hall!

My dilemma being is I am not even dressed yet and my dad is already home and drunk! I can't get to the bus on time and to even think about running to school…? No frigging way! I only exert myself at life or death costs or if the world is at stake… damn, that is basically the same thing again huh?

Anyway: friiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick me… in the ass with a spatula.

Don't ask!

Shit… lets pray Stan is still at home… the ruddy bastard.

I shuffled into my bed room, whipping off the towel and rolling it up to toss it somewhere else. I go to my dresser that was missing a drawer and was lopsided when I took a swing at it with a metal bat in frustration on my twelfth birthday when I accidentally kissed Butters—whom was drunk at the time. But he can't possibly remember that so who cares?

I do…

Damn it where's my freakin' bat?!

No, first things first—call Stan.

I grabbed my boxers from the second drawer, stretching them out making the huge heart on the ass grew white lines as the fabric widened. I pulled them on and quickly located my charging phone from atop the cramped dresser. A knocked over a picture of Kyle and Stan grinning, holding up a gigantic fake fish that the redhead programmed to sing irritating and down right obscene tunes. A few loose leaf papers drifted to the floor and a hair brush. I picked it up, flipping open my cell and pressing the speed dial for Stan's number.

I hung the brush in my mouth and tilted my head to the side to keep the phone in place as I rummaged in my drawers for another t-shirt. I growled as I found an emo looking piece with the Jolly Roger displayed proudly. One of the sleeves had been torn off by Stan's gay dog and I cussed it out just as the ringing signal stopped and someone tiredly answered. I had taken the brush from my mouth now and was fixing my mane.

"Stan's House of Utterly Disgusting Inter Species Relations, how may I help you…?"

"Put your fuck bunny on, I want to talk with him," I demanded. I jerked the shirt onto my bed and looked around the floor for a decently clean pair of jeans to wear. I ended up just putting on the ones from last night. I gazed around the room for some body spray to dose them in, hoping they wouldn't smell.

"Goddamn you Kenny…" the Jew groaned and I heard the ruffle of sheets as the phone scrapped against something before coming to rest somewhere else. I tugged on my shirt and walked over to my closet door to ponder what else I should wear.

"Why in hell are you calling to antagonize Kyle at 7 in the morning?" Stan drawled and I could hear a sigh as he dug deeper into the blankets. I shrugged but remembered they couldn't see me through the phone. Whoops.

"I'm running late today. Mind swinging by to pick me up?" I intoned as nicely as I could.

"No."

"Screw you man! I took down a fucking zombie!" I shouted into the phone. I wanted to throw it into a pit of ravenous Kola bears that were bred but a psycho killer out to capture and torture mean assholes, but my phone was the only nice thing I had in life.

"I'm joking idiot… I'm picking you up in half an hour… Jesus Christ," with that last said, the dial tone was my next best friend. I scowled down at the phone and chucked it on my pillow covered in hot babes posing on motorbikes. A present from my older brother who moved out eons ago.

So, having a good bit to myself, I contemplated what to wear. I had many jackets. It was like I had my own collection, ranging anywhere from sweaters, to regular zipper jackets, to even cloaks and coats and that velour jogging crap fat guys like Cartman think are to die for.

The only catch was that they were all in orange. Most of them neon bright or resembling the color of… well, an orange.

You know, I always wondered, what came first… the color or the fruit? Was it the color and then they named the fruit after it because it was orange? Or could it have been the fruit and then the color was nicknamed after the food item?

It was one of life's greatest mysteries we will never solve. Kind of like why are we here and is Bigfoot real and where the hell is Waldo?

Now why do I love orange? Good question—I don't know. I just do. Hell, when I was a kid, I dressed up as this weird anime character I watched back when Cartoon Network was the shiznit, but no one realized. They thought that I was too poor to get a costume…

Well, except for Butters, he understood it… I guess because he was dressed up like another character from the same show too. I thought it was cute.

Just then, I came to my senses and found I was fingering the hoodie said cute kid washed for me last night. My palm passed over a bullet hole in the back. It was tiny, ringed in a pink stain. That night I was taken down by a caliber wielding woman. She was in love with the vampire I was after…

I recalled the way she declared that no matter how wrong it was she didn't care. Her love was much too strong to stand back and watch him be staked through the heart. The poor lady bent down to embrace me as well crying to God how sorry she was for her feelings…

"But I can't choose who I love…!"

Those were her exact words.

When I finally died, Damien monitored their movements with a frown, debating if it was worth me chasing this couple halfway across the globe. He decided against it as they made their way into Canada. I wasn't really planning to go after them anyway. Not just because of all the work… but because I really thought that maybe the vampire and his lady weren't half bad together. Why not let them frolic for a while…? Perhaps they had a shot at happiness together.

What was I, a mere immortal human, to rip it away from them for?

As Stan's dumpy ol' 1996 dark blue Toyota honked its damaged horn, I flung on the hoodie. I put up the hood of it, tying the strings tight enough that only my eyes and a tuft of gold peeked out. I sprinted out the front, leaving it wide open, my dad calling out something random, and I leapt in, lying across Kyle's slim little lap.

"Happy to see me?"

"Get off the guy or you're walking," the brunette growled. I grinned despite no one would know. I clambered off the poor redhead and wriggled into the back, sighing to myself as I had just a teeny space to myself. While driving Stan didn't look back at me as he commented, "So I guess Cartman told you already."

"Yeah," I answered, head rotating slightly as I heard Kyle's bag shift at his feet. Inside that bulky dark book bag with the Star of David on the flap, was a mini notebook laptop, barely big enough to encompass a small portion of the 1 inch three ring binder it hid in. "I guess you checked your email this morning, huh?"

"Right after you called," Kyle replied. I coughed, rubbing at my aching chest. This was sometimes an after affect. If my new heart beat too quickly, it caused just slight internal damage for a moment. Sort of like a baby's heart if you would believe.

"Do you have any idea of the time frame I need to work in…?" I inquired. Kyle had leaned back in the seat and some of his weight spilled into the back near my knees. This was a classic sign of him thinking. He relaxed as best as he could and just let the information collect and surge inside that inanely intelligent cranium.

"Well, from Cartman's perspective… it's way too blurry," he began, the voice taking on a lecturing quality almost. "I am surprised he could identify it was Butters being drowned. There is constant mention of bubbles and thrashing and bright flowing yellow hair and well as these swirls of blood…"

"How does the Lardass even know its Starks Pond?" Stan butt in, checking both ways and in his mirrors as he came to a four way stop. After a pause, he pressed the gas pedal and we continued to move.

"The thing is he mentioned that the person had jumped up on to the ice, scratching their way up the bank to survive. The sign was quite clear he said. There was also something about it Cartman insisted. That it was… well… I dunno. A safe spot maybe," Kyle shook his head. I clunked mine on the window, closing my eyes as I tried to image the scene.

"I'll look over it later…" I sighed. I didn't want to, but I was going to have to…

Shit, I feel like I am forgetting to tell the guys something.

"The problem with Cartman's visions is that they are never accurate. Not like a movie reel or flashes of pictures… These visions almost always have some sort of hidden meanings and are more like visual poetry," he went on. Stan's fingers tapped out a rhythm on the steering wheel in agreement. "Interpret it five million ways to Sunday; on no account will you still get the same answer."

"That's inspiring," I muttered. Kyle winced and I could feel him swivel in his seat to gaze down at me.

"My bad," he apologized. Shrugging I tied my hood closer to my face.

"Let's just get to school, we'll talk later. Cartman's basement," I suggested. We've been going down into Cartman's basement for as long as I can remember. Whether playing cops or business men or fighting the Lynch King in World of Warcraft, we've always used Eric's basement. It probably wasn't going to change anytime soon either.

So we got to school on time…

Which was perfectly great and stuff... but I was so tired and just overly overwhelmed by this news. _Gwad_, why Butters of all people?!

Dammit!

We got to find that damn demon before it finds him!

As I was firing down notes in my fourth period class—wow, school was halfway over already?!—I felt a chill scurry athwart along my spine. The distinct smell of sulfur was rising up around me. I turned my body in my seat, brows coming down as I glanced about the room. The teacher was yawning, flipping through a magazine, the educational movie of some kind was blaring. My peers were either asleep or passing notes.

Uh-oh.

This couldn't be good.

My neck snapped back as I heard the sounds of clawed feet pit-pattering above me. I lately observed I was placed directly under the air-conditioning vent (weird thought, I know, but why in the nine hells does South Park need an A/C? It's always frickin' snowing!).

My eyes narrowed and as I located the echoing of squeaky laughter, I suddenly recalled yesterday night when Damien showed me that damned imp!

I knew I was forgetting something!!! DAMN!

The smell of sulfur intensified twelve fold and some of the people around me began to shake their heads or clasp on to their nostrils. I suppressed my gag reflex, realizing there was sweating rolling down between my shoulder blades. A loud moaning noise was coming from underneath me. I noticed the smell of burning rubber as well.

My eyes flew to my sneakers… "Awww fu—"

My desk lurched forward and I seized the edges, biting my lip to keep from crying because in my hurry I chipped off my ring finger nail on my left hand. My classmates, in a flurry of papers and screams, were breaking apart and knocking over other desks to get away from the intense temperature and putrid air.

In a radius of about three feet, the area under my desk was melting away in a hell fire heat. I had to be under another vent for the air conditioner; that damned creature! I glared up at the one high over my head as the frame of the room buckled. Those shrill guffaws were growing louder and I shook my head as tiny red digits poked out from the slits in the vent and squirmed at me in a sort of wave.

"You son of ahhhhh—!"

I gulped back down the rest of my insult. The girls in the room began to wilding shriek and the teacher rammed the door with her shoulder. Sizzling flesh filled with room and wisps of smoke rose up, but they all escaped, the teacher apologetically looking back. It made me flinch and I decided I didn't really want die so early today. Especially since no one knows about the imp yet.

However… it might be easy for the guys to figure out if they find my smoldering body…

Ugh, no, death by fire hurts like hell.

Oh look, that could be a pun (I keep doing that).

I let out a surprised gasp as the floor under me swirled in a cone shape. Chairs and tables toppled into one another, the clash of simmering metal making a wet sound. Shakily, I gripped on to the back of the seat of my desk. My converse shoes—which cost more than they are worth—were utterly destroyed. There could be no fixing them as they kept sticking onto the spot where my ass previously occupied.

I was terrified of losing balance and falling into that quickly glowing crimson whirlpool from Hades. Somewhere in the back of my head I recognized the heat, but I just pulled taunt on my hood drawstrings. It kept my sweaty tendrils from my drying orbs.

My desk's front legs were all of sudden devoured by the hungry pit below me. Knowing I was going to join unless I moved, I threw my legs onto the attached tabletop. It pushed down my desk further. Shit! I am in the fucking eye of the storm! The only item to worry about was _moving_ otherwise I would face certain death.

But the desk kept sinking. Liquidated metal (that was much too reminiscent of lava) flowed over onto the top. "Screw it all!" I yelled in a muffle of fabric. I leapt from the desk; it was swallowed with out mercy, and quickly threw my arms around the first piece of furniture tipping down my way. Another fricking desk!

I scrambled for the surface of the writing part again, trying to keep my body up straight as a razor, least I roll over and "swim" for safety in a lake of steel only about bazillions degrees in Fahrenheit. I kicked off the seat, knocking it down, and pushed off the upright edge. I jumped up high enough that I caught a hold of the tilting television set. Panting I dared a peek behind me.

Unfortunately, with this quaky grounding and my utter lack of coordination, the set began to stagger… back into the center of where the room was falling. However, as the plug was still hooked into the wall; the set snapped forward with my awkward weight, the heavy duty cable catching and swinging the station the TV sat on around. It slammed down into the boiling muck that was a classroom tiled floor. Howling when the lava substance splashed up against my right cheek, I swiped it off as fast as humanly possible, the fabric of my hoodie blending into my wrist as I did so.

Just then, my ears caught hold of a spark. My eyes widened and I fearfully looked down to find the television's black outer shell been eaten away. The choking scent of blistering plastic and the sallow fumes rose up so bad I shielded my face in an X pattern.

Not a second later the TV exploded.

It blasted me up off the stand and I crashed against the teacher's sliding desk-table. That well built piece of crap gave way to my body and was in blazing piles, disappearing instantly as the wooded interior landed on the floor. The crash of the table had slowed me down enough that I could aim myself for the window…

The very instant I had shattered the glass and was flung out into the horribly freezing ice box that was the mountain in Colorado, the classroom belched and the interior of the C building of my high school was obliterated. I flew in a high arch, declining at the same rate of the building, which was pretty damn rapid.

I lost a converse somewhere in that first explosion and I noticed the fact my hood strings were scorched to mere threads and that part of the sweater had taken the blow for my face, almost burnt away completely.

As I was free-falling swiftly to the earth I closed my eyes… No way in hell could I survive a five story drop, even if I hit the softest snow on the face of the planet. Well, at least I didn't die in a flaming spiral from the depths of Hell…

I could hear the distant whizzing of the wind… feel my hoodie lightly snag on to the bricks of the B building behind me… I tried to picture something peaceful… it would calm me before death and so I wouldn't get wound up too bad before telling Damien what had happened. No doubt he saw it anyway.

I smiled… Butters was stuck in my mind… the only kind and supple thing I could think of… I could just image him calling my name………………….…..

"KKKEEEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNNNNNYYY!"

HOLY SHI—

My inner curse was cut away (this was happening a lot today) as I felt my arm pinched by something. It was petite, almost insignificant, but the grip was holding on for dear life (pardon that lame joke). My shoulder jerked upwards and my body flipped down, smashing on the side of the B building. I groaned audibly, my throat sore enough and too tired to actually really scream. With a sort of dazed head, I squinted, cocking my head to see who the hell caught me out of thin air.

As the sun light shifted, the boy of my waking dreams (and sleeping thoughts mind you) was leaning out from a flung open window. His face was screwed up, concentrating on keeping the severe hold on me.

"Butters…?"

"H-Hey Kenny," he greeted, one of his eyes clenched down as he pried one open to look at me. I wanted to laugh, but the straining arms couldn't take that. His chewed up nails were digging into the skin of my wrist. "I-If you c-could help, p-please…?"

I burrowed my free hand into the motor of the bricks decorating the outside of the building. My shuddering leg muscles began to ferment as I stuck the gooey mess of my shoes into the tiny cracks for more leverage. Slowly and with great difficulty, I helped Butters lift me up. When we had managed to get my torso part way into the window ledge, the blond dropped my hand in favor of dragging in my waist, and then yanking on the belt loops and pockets of my jeans.

I spilled onto the floor clumsily, face first, breathing harsh and shallow at the same time.

That was hyperventilating, right?

Butters collapsed right next to me, nudging me over by placing his hands on my abdomen and heaving me upwards. On my back, I found it easier to breathe, and my lungs racked together as I coughed and wheezed out the smoke and sulfur. As adrenaline wore away I could feel the pain start to set in with weariness. There were ambulance sirens coming closer to the school. The alarm system was also ringing in my much too overheated ears.

I spied about from the corner of my eyes… Butters in the isolated room…

"What the hell… are you doing in here?" I puffed out, stomach contracting as I lug myself up onto the elbows. "The C building burned down… everyone has to evacuate…" It was standard etiquette the administrative system went over with us at the beginning of every year. In case of fire or accident, all buildings must be emptied of all students.

"I-I know but…" Butters stuttered, his knuckles rubbing together like always, a blush was welling up in those adorably lickable cheeks quite appropriately, "When everyone rushed o-out, S-Stan and Kyle c-c-couldn't find you… I realized with y-your luck, you were s-still i-i-inside…"

I could feel my mouth gape open just a miniscule amount. It closed and released, but no words could really come out. Finally all I could squeeze out was, "Why?"

"I-I don't know… I d-didn't want you t-to die… not again…" he looked so very pressured and confused. Those huge sky-blue eyes watered. I ended up sighing, my legs folding up in the Indian fashion when I put my torn up arms around his shoulders and hauled him into my chest.

The scorching warmth of the inferno was still lingering in the hoodie, but compared to what Butters did to _me_, it was like a cool summer breeze. The skinny body kneeled over into me, one of those little hands rested on my chest, keeping me at an uncomfortable distance; the other was placed on the floor, just between my bent knees, the forearm brushing up against my inner thigh. Every bit of me went up in sparks of electric ecstasy.

"K-Kenny…?"

"You gotta promise me you won't do something like this again!" I demanded witlessly into his flaxen hair. A few strands sled over the burnt flesh on my cheek, stinging it fiercely, but I ignored it. Butters was trembling and I could feel it resonate throughout me. "Never, **ever** endanger yourself for me! Never again! **Promise me**!"

"B-But Kenny—"

"Please… just promise me…" I begged voice breaking off into a grated whisper. Butters could only nod into the ginger cloth of the hoodie. My hands did not steady themselves until they began to circle the blonde's modest back… almost as if comforting _him_, but in reality, it was _me_ who needed the contact the most.

Even if it didn't mean a damn thing in the end.

**TBC**

A/N: Originally there were a couple more scenes in here. I took those out though because they weren't making any sense and came across different than intended. Plus, it's already ten pages long. I hadn't really wanted that. It just kept going!

So, have you ever woke up—and knew you did—but couldn't remember sleeping? That's happened to me. Kenny was in a state of shock, that's why there is a jump from Cartman's call to the next morning.

I got odd and technical with Kenny getting to school… but it seemed Kenny-ish to me.

Hehehe, drunk Butters memories. I'm thinking of addressing that later, but it won't further much of the plot so it's all up to the readers.

OH! And if you can guess the anime character Kenny dressed up as, you'll get a cookie XD

And if you are wondering, I really don't know if Stan and Kyle are a couple. Kenny constantly teases them about it, but if they are… meh. It might develop in later chapters. If you would like to think so, by all means, I've alluded a bit to it. Kyle just happened to sleep over because they were working on a class project together… maybe.

Yeah, they know, even Cartman, about Kenny's obsession with Butters.

The imp, also, if you are confused, basically set a kind of "hell-fire" in the ventilation system. Hell fire is so hot it just literally burned down the metal interior of the school. Which, I should explain…

The school has three parts. A Building is where the gym and cafeteria are set up in the middle of the school ground. Behind it are the baseball and football fields. Flanking to the right is the C building which as the science and math rooms. That building is the tallest in the school. To the left is the B building, with a few less stories. The explosion was powerful enough to shot Kenny all the way across the sky past the A building. He could have literally fallen into the B building if he tried. Butter's just happened to catch him first. I'll get to that in the next chapter if wanted.

I also don't know if everything I wrote had some sound facts in reality… Hehe! I actually doubt it. But, this _is_ fan **FICTION**. So if you have a problem with it, just deal.

So that's all for now, hope you enjoyed. See y'all next time!

_**-SAI-**_


	5. A Chapter To Put Between Buns

A/N: FLASH BACKS

**A/N: **Today has been a weird day for SAI… please humor her.

To **Matchstick Fighter**: You are always my first review! Ahhh! As you are happy to read, as I am happy see your comment.

To **Willa**: Lol. I'm glad you are a Butters friend! It took a bit to convince my own brother and best friends these guys were adorable together. Your support is very much welcome!

To **iluvkenny**: No. You're awesome XD

To **sssss**: … No offense or anything, but I am related to Jews. I've studied their culture and their religion. "Jew" is not really an offensive term… However, if YOU are offended by it, then I shall use it less often. I don't mean to hurt anyone's feeling but really, c'mon. This is South Park. It's not a PC cartoon.

To **Edley Ashward**: First off, love your name. Second, I've been a KennyxButters fan for a while… but yeah… you can't see it in the show that often. I dunno when I started liking it. Third, thanks much! And last, I'VE UPDATED, DON'T HURT ANYONE! XD

To **sou-chan200**: I luff zombies like zombies luff my brains. I'm pleased you enjoyed it so much. –Returns hug while nibbling on cookie- How did you know what to get me?! Seriously, you just might be my favorite reviewer now… -falls in love-

**Warning:** Gay stuff. Lots of it. And random bits of … supernatural.

**Disclaimer:** Me love South Park long time! Me no own though… me sigh.

**Summary:** A lot of random stuff happens that consequently move the plot forward. Who would have thought?

**Remember:**

"Blah" – Speech

_Blah_ –Thoughts

Blah – Self Explanatory

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

CHAPTER FOUR—A Chapter To Put Between Buns

"Shit…"

I groaned as I laid in the damn, stiff hospital bed.

"I-Is there anything I-I-I can do to h-help…?" Butters was bending over the bed slightly, his cute little butt wiggling in his nervousness. I won't say that I _ogled_ it... but I certainly didn't turn my head away.

"Nah, I'm just hurting now is all," I told him, a smirk gracing my face proudly as my eyes were glued to his shirt that rode up a bit as he toyed with the end of his shirt. _C'mon, put the eyeballs back in your head—but damn! How adorable is that perky—?_

"Kenny!"

"Ken!"

Two bodies fell in from the doorway, one of a high school quarterback and the other of a scrawny kosher geek. Butters let out a surprised noise, bolting upright and moving out of the way of the flapping bodies. I glared meaninglessly at Stan and Kyle on the sterile linoleum tiles. They both glanced up sheepishly.

"Hey, guys, hows it going?" I asked, kicking up my legs and crossing them. My toes wriggled in the open air. The socks were scorched up pretty bad so I chucked them off as well as my now useless hoodie. The jean's button melted into the zipper and so I was stuck in them until the nurse came back to cut them off. The emo shirt I picked out though? Totally fine. Go fig in a tree.

"Well, a little freaked out," Kyle honestly replied as he pushed himself up from the floor. He tottered over to the nearest chair and slouched down. I could see from the faint lines crossing his forehead he had been pretty concerned over me. Guilty I sighed and shrugged. Stan soon sulked over to the chair Kyle was sitting in to lean his forearm on the curly scarlet hair.

"I can't believe you actually survived…" he mumbled, mainly to himself as he stared at my bandaged hands lying limp by my hips. Gripping onto metal in such a heat destroyed my palms, my fingernails are now gone and won't grow back because I damaged the nerves extensively. And my poor golden locks are now ashy and had to be trimmed down! Butters had kindly given me a mirror when we first hobbled into the Hospital. That lava gave me a severe scar on my cheek.

My beautiful face! My wondrous body! I should have just died!

Alright, I admit, I am being overdramatic.

The next time I die that should all be erased and I'll be as new as a babe, but still, it takes a lot to be this gorgeous, you know?

"What can I say?" I put up my heavy hands in a defeated sort of way, "I'm a lucky son of a bitch." Kyle was starting to poke at my bandages, his genius green eyes calculating something I couldn't see.

"Is it just me… or—"

Stan cut off whatever comment the Hebrew one was going to make as he kicked at the seat. Kyle blinked and swiveled his face to see Butters, curiously tilting his head at us. I gave a nervous laugh, scratching at my head as I tried to think of something to say.

"Butters, do me a favor and make sure the nurse didn't just toss out my hoodie…?" it was random and totally ridiculous as I had told him a few moments previous how it was now a piece of crap and I would never be able to replace it (I didn't cry about it _exactly_ as I bemoaned its passing). The tiny blond nodded, although his countenance showed confusion. As soon as he stumbled out the door I thanked Monkey Buddha and hit my hand on the rock hard bed. "Now what the hell was that about Stan?!"

"Kyle was curious about the symbol now burned into your palm," he said as he sat down. Kyle glanced to the side apprehensively. The raven smiled good-naturedly as he tapped the area of his chest where the heart was located. A common gesture we used to determine whenever he flipped on that switch for his empathic abilities. "I don't think it would be something Butters would be comfortable hearing."

Raising a brow, I peeked down at my bandages, tugging at the wrappings as I tried to see what the hell they were taking about. I gasped as I realized I could see the corner of some kind of stain. You couldn't see all of it but my palm appeared as if someone tattooed a bloodied mark on it.

"When the hell did I…?" I didn't finish my thought as I racked my brain for anything I might have touched that would leave an impression like this on my flesh. Kyle motioned for me to come closer. He clasped my hand and started trying to trace the symbol. He couldn't seem to place it and I had no clue was it was. Stan spun his head to the door, just as the fourth member of our group strolled in, carrying a bag of powered donuts.

"Looks like I walked into a gay-some going on," Cartman commented as casually as one could image. I tried to flip him the bird, but with both hands under an array of weighty gauze made it nearly impossible. The empath was kind enough to know the irritation and threw up both fingers for me. Awww, what great buddies I got.

"So those donuts for me?" I asked as he came in to rest at the foot of the mattress. Eric shrugged and offered me one. I snatched the entire thing from him and begun munching them down. After that entire adrenaline near-death experience thing, my energy was literally on empty. I needed all the sugar I could get. Plus, I skipped breakfast and I never got lunch before jumping out of a five story window. Kind of makes you hungry.

"Stan, grab my laptop, it's in the bag," Kyle instructed while waving his hand in some direction. He twisted my hand—not that I could feel it by now, I just saw it. The raven picked up the bag from the floor when they had first scattered inside. He lugged out the tiny computer and set on the bed next to my hand. As the redhead opened it up he glimpsed up at me, "Still got your camera?"

"I'm lucky I forgot it at home this morning. That hell-fire heat would have ruined it," I grumbled. "Don't you know how much that damn thing cost me?" Kyle rolled his eyes and dug around in his bag for a camera. Finally, Stan handed over his kewl phone and Kyle took some pictures of my palm, then he emailed the pics to his email address.

"You've either got a hex on you," the genius started as his smooth digits typed out at the laptop at a hundred miles a minute, "Or you've just been targeted by a high level demonic assassin of some kind."

"Oooooh! Such a lot to worry about! Save me please, Kyle!" I mock cried and pretended to shake under my blankets. Those green eyes glowered at me and I stuck out my tongue happily. "Dude, I can just be reborn again! It's not a big deal."

"Actually, it is," he sighed. I heard the tell-tale signs of him bringing up certain WebPages that we knew for a fact could be trusted. He then rotated the computer for me. I calmly started to read some of the blurbs under the horrid 15th century drawings of people captured in Hell. "You die you while that thing is on and you don't go to Damien. You go straight into a purgatory created by whoever tried to blow you up a few hours ago."

I grabbed the laptop screen, gaping as I continued to read.

"WHAT?!"

Oh boy is **my** life fun…

Well, I was in shock for a little bit. This Not-Dying-Because-You'll-Die-For-Real concept scared the _fuck_ out of me. I have the absolute worst luck, _ever_! I die almost _everyday_. Once a week if I'm lucky! But I'm not… so, therefore, I haven't die in once a week since, like, fifth grade. And that was before all the bullshit with Damien and the Devil…!

Crap.

Shit.

DAMN!

So anyway, I had leaned back in the bed and told the guys about the imp that caused all the trouble. Obviously it was the one employed by this… assassin, as Kyle put it. I also explained about God's decree. Kyle hummed thoughtfully at the news and began searching some more stuff. He said I should probably read up on Cartman's dream since I was going to be stuck in the hospital until tomorrow afternoon. I ended up procrastinating and telling him I would deal with it when my hands were burnt to a crisp.

Truth was, I just didn't want to think that both Butters life and my own was in imminent danger. I know I can't run away from my problems, but no one said anything about hiding from them for a little while, right?

Cartman was kind enough to tell me he would be on the look out for anymore visions or such. Stan said he would keep on his abilities until he was drained out. Kyle promised he wouldn't rest until he figured this thing through. And then they all left to search for some kind of clue.

Wonderful.

And now I am stuck in a freaking hospital! Just great…

So, about a couple of hours around eleven or so, I'm dozing lightly in my bed when I start hearing this odd noise. I cracked my eyes open to see a blurry figure of a person shuffling some paper in front of their eyes. It's dim in the room, but lights from the outside world glare brightly between dusted blinds…

"Butters…?"

A grating laugh filled the room and I froze.

"Not even close…"

Fucking Damien.

"How the hell did you get up here?!" I said, I tried to swing out of bed, but my pain medication caused my legs to wobble. The Son of Satan chuckled and slapped my knees down.

"Kyle sent me an email… if you'd believe," he answered. The next thing that happened was weird. Damien's heavy form sat on the bed, but it didn't buckle with weight at all. Beams of light slid across the walls from a passing semi, I could hear the horn, and I was shocked to discover a fuzzy hologram-esque form of the raven staring at me.

"What the hell…?" I reached out and made to poke him in the eye, my hand went completely through the skull. I brought it back and rubbed at my cheek. "Am I fucking high again?"

"No. Quite the opposite," Damien responded, crossing his legs. "This is what people would call an astro-self. Or maybe an out of body experience if you are technically alive."

"You're spirit has left your body?!" I cried out. Damien held up his finger to his mouth and he glanced around the empty room warily. No other noise besides crickets could be heard in the chilling night air.

"I'm not really alive and you know I have no soul," he grumbled. I apologetically shrugged. Damien shook his head and reminded himself apparently why he was here. "Anyway, all I have done is tapped into a part of my power that allows me observe and

control some things outside of the realm of where I am physically at."

"Oh… O-kay then…"

"Listen, this had gotten a lot more out of hand than I expected," Damien hissed to me, his eyes were darting about, looking for anything and everything that could be spying in on us. "We have someone here in Hell who has been giving out our information!"

"Shit! Are you serious?!" I exclaim while covering my mouth. The Devil's kid nodded sullenly, sighing. I continue to curse as I sat staring at the opposite wall. "Well this is just great… Do we have any ideas?"

"None. But I have heard about the mark," Damien replied. He was tapping his finger on his chin, obviously thinking hard. I grunted and relaxed in bed, deciding it wasn't much I could do anyways besides sit here. Eventually Damien had stood and began pacing. The rhythm of swaying back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and…

"**Kenny, get your ass up**!"

"NO RADIOACTIVE BUNNIES!"

I had flown up and out of bed in record timing. Maybe sleeping to awake on cold linoleum floor in exactly 2.6 seconds; I beat Kyle by at least 0.4 on the scoreboard. As I struggled to suck up cleaned scented oxygen to my bruised lungs, I ended up squinting at the harsh glare the floor gave, realizing that it was bright and sunny in my room.

I wormed my way across the floor, feeling my butt flap in the back of my hospital's icky pea green gown open up. I nervously laughed as I clutched it closed, raising up on my abused knees. I spotted the evil nurse in the doorway, crossing her chucky arms as she dangled a sponge in her sausage fingers…

Dear Lord, forgive me for any sins I committed in the past, I am a changed man!

I couldn't get out of it… at all… I feel… _so_ dirty!

After a **profound** session of crying and sobbing in the corner of my teeny room, I was tiredly sighing into the bathroom mirror as I picked up a lock of hair. At least I looked blond again. I got out of that damn emo shirt too! YAY!

Before the flexing could begin I got a knock on the door, that evil nurse was back, and she had to kindly inform me I had my friends waiting in my room to take me back home. I gave her a strained smile and waved her off. Five minutes of the last bits of tears, I exited the bathroom, carrying my gown in my arms, my new clothes feeling better and warmer than my previous drapes.

I was totally unsuspecting of Butters to be sitting on my bed.

"Whoa…" tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop it.

The little blond was sitting cross-legged on the bed, the wind coming in from my unbolted window ruffling his shaggy hair just so. A pale hand brushed the strands of corn silk away from wide, innocent sky colored eyes. That lush mouth rounded in surprise as he saw me come into the room, then it broke out into a shy smile. And _**damn**_! How it lights up the entire place…

My heart worked up an incredible tempo and I spun around, feeling all my blood flush to one area. "Whole-Lee Shiiiiit! Dammit God! Whhhhhhhhhy?!" I whined under my breath.

Seriously! WHY does this ALWAYS have to happen to meeeeeeeeeeee?!

"K-Kenny? Are you a-alright?" I heard the bed squeak and that timid voice and my fantasies ran **wild**. Gulping, I apprehensively turned back on my heel, eying the young man as secretively as I could.

"Y-Yeah… Peachy…" I answered. Butters had tilted his head and grinned in relief. The nurse had sauntered in and said that the rest were waiting out in the hall for us. As my fellow blond hopped off the bed and padded out to join the others I continued to grumble, "Just peachy… I'm gonna kill those guys for doing that to me…"

(Insert evil image of Cartman, Stan, and Kyle as they laugh hysterically at my obsession for poor lil' Butters)

But yeah… so we get in Stan's truck, we're all squished up in the tiny back because only _Kyle_ can be up there in the front passenger seat because despite how fricking skinny the Jewish boy is, he needs all the room he can get so he can _breathe_ due to a magical condition called asthma while I have to squeeze in beside the window and Butters and Cartman on the other side…

Every little dip jostled Butters up and in my lap… I _swear_ he smelled so good… clean soap and fresh mint… There was always such a sweet smell following him around... The way his warm body fit against mine… all his curves melding into me… like pieces of a puzzle…

And then Stan slammed on the brakes and I bashed my head against the window, effectively shattering it (the window luckily, not my cranium).

"**FUCK** Stan!" I shouted, cradling my injured head as Butters scrambled away. "Why the **HELL** did you do that?!"

"_That's_ why…"

Stan pointed his finger toward the middle of the street, a few blocks from my very own house, where a little red figure was shifting around in the slush. Cursing I flung my body over Butters, because he was curiously beginning to rise over the faded leather seats, and started hitting Stan's outstretched hand, hissing for him to do something. "What can I do?!" he snarled back.

That was when I got a very bad horror movie (CLICHÉ!) idea.

"Run it over!" I demanded. Stan looked back, eyes practically exploding out of his skull as a horn honked crudely from a rather momentum-driven sedan behind us. Thinking fast, I dived-bombed straight into the brunet's lap; ignoring the shocked yelp, I punched his knee, it automatically crashed down onto the gas pedal. Boy I tell you, we peeled some rubber off the tires!

A sudden lurch and thump alongside a squeal of agony—take that you little bastard—and I knew we pretty much got that damn imp! Now I say pretty much because, c'mon, it's partly a demon for Pete's sake. It won't go down THAT easily.

Stan had palmed the wheel around, screeching his brakes as he banged the side of the truck into a fence. I winced as the paint could be heard being scratched off. I was not envious of the jock at this moment. Well, it stopped the car enough so that everyone could catch their breath, especially Kyle, who was fumbling with his inhaler. At fault, I rose up, trying to keep him calm as I patted his shoulder.

"I'm really sorry…" I whispered. He waved me off, muttering prayers in his language as I backed off a bit. That was when the tiny wince from the backseat caught my attention. I turned my head to see the blond in the back rubbing his arm as it stung lightly from smacking the side of the window. I froze.

Frick.

If he sees that imp lying in the middle of the road…

Stan was groaning, lifting up from the wheel, cussing at not having air bags. He glanced over at Kyle, and also over at me since I was in the way, noticing my rigid accountancy. Furrowing his brows he followed my eyes to see the damned cherry bright creature twitching in the street, clearly discernible in the gleaming, blinding white snow. Then he caught a hold of Butters gaze foggily starting to follow it.

"Shit…!" he whispered to me in a hurry. I could feel my jaw tighten when we locked eyes. "What are we gonna do?!"

"Tap him!" I ordered without thinking.

"What?! Hell no!" he argued. I clenched my hands into a fist and anxiously bounced in the seat, trying my hardest not to panic. Stan (who must have had on his abilities since he was fretting visibly) swiveled his warm, brown orbs over to our smallest companion who tilted his head at us in confusion. As Butters rotated in his seat to see what we were so worried over, I hit Stan on the arm.

"Just fucking do it!"

Startled, Butters looked back, just as Stan's hand shot out, abandoning his worn navy gloves. Those sky hued eyes grew so big I thought his eyes would pop out of his skull as soon as that hand smoothed against his cheek. I bit my tongue, not realizing that some blood welled up past my taste buds.

"Wha…" Butters tried but his lids suddenly slipping to half way closed. If it wasn't such a crucial moment I would have probably been turned on.

"Sleep…" Stan whispered, voice lulling the boy into calmness. "Sleep and think this all a strange dream…"

And then he was out.

Stan followed a second later.

Kyle shoved me out of the way with more strength than Superman on steroids. Honestly, the guy can pack a punch, I know because I've seen him do it. Well, Stan flopped over into the Jew's lap, breathing shallow and going much too fast. A cold sweat was braking over his face and the redhead was amiably mopping his brow, murmuring things into his ear. Cartman's grunt of annoyance was evident, breaking my trance as I had watched the two unknowingly for the last minute or so in a deep stare.

"That was a bad idea, Kenny," he pointed out while flicking the back of my head. I growled and drug my hand through my now too short locks.

"I didn't see much of a choice!" I hissed, "If Butters were to see that thing—"

"Kenny, we live in South Park where you die almost everyday," Kyle interrupted with a bit of a sneer, "We get visited by aliens, flown to Imagination Land, or meet talking pieces of sh—"

"It is not nice to curse…" Stan muttered, rubbing at his eyes jadedly. Kyle gasped, his head snapping down to the ravens.

"Are you alright?"

"F-Fine…" he stuttered while trying to sit up, but the Hebrew one pushed him back down into the slim lap again to rest.

"Looks like that took a toll on 'im," Cartman observed his voice low and right in my ear. I gulped, deciding not to comment. "I don't wanna say it but you gotta be careful, Ken. We ain't like you… we can't come back from the grave. Stan can't tap as well as he can tell."

I sigh and nod, twisting around to grip the steering wheel.

One of the most renowned things about empaths is that they can FEEL another person's emotions. Or for the most part just KNOW. What you might not be familiar with is that empaths can also influence others to feel certain things too. Those with a natural ability might go into work as doctors or therapists or even specialists in certain fields like the military (Stan's happened to be an amplified gift thanks to me and my freakishness). We've nick-named these traits as Tap and Tell.

To tell means Stan just knows what everyone else is feeling. To tap means he can manipulate a person's emotions… If you are EXTREMELY gifted, all you gotta do is just THINK about making someone feel something… Stan is not that freakish. He has to touch someone in order to do that. The dreadful thing is Stan is all the more better at just telling. If he were to take off his gloves or if he wasn't focusing hard enough, physical contact could send his telling gifts into a frenzy…!

But he HAS to touch in order to tap.

It's a 100 percent success rate of absorbing the others personality and feelings for the next couple of hours while it's only a fifty-fifty chance of actually getting the other to experience whatever you want them to. We were lucky enough in this desperate situation… Stan must have used almost all of his spiritual energy to get Butters to fall asleep.

You see, should someone lose their spiritual energy they… well… die.

Get why Kyle's pissed, Stan's weird, and Cartman (of all people) is scolding me?

Really?

Okay, good.

I sighed, throwing the stick into reverse and backing up the car a little bit. After we hit the imp we sort of skidded on the ice and we were now up on a sidewalk. I decided to at least get us back on the road. I jumped down from the driver's seat after setting the car in neutral and parking it. I checked out the tires, noticing the left wheel in the front had its chain fall off. The cold wind blasted past me and I caught the slight smell of sulfur. Cursing, my neck cracked as I turned my head fast in order to catch the imp stagger to its feet shaking its horned skull… or one horned now.

It blinked at me with beady black eyes and hissed, dragging a chain in its crumbled claw. Stan's chain for the truck! "Oh no you don't!" I growled. I sprung up and charged at it. It squeaked in a scratchy voice and started heading toward the gutters. It leapt down between the bars before I got halfway across the street. Gritting my teeth, I slid through the slush and made a wild grab for the chain. The cold metal stuck to the large mittens I was given by the hospital.

It wrestled with the chain for a moment and then yanked with all its might, catching me across the face. I cussed at it, abandoning my quest for the chain and trying straight for the skinny scarlet throat. It stumbled back in surprise, the chain flinging away, taking my mitten with it. Tumbling down, I realized I wasn't going to catch it. I clutched on to the nailed down bars of the gutter, trying to locate the imp again.

"Dammit! Who are you working for?!" I called out. The wetness of melting snow made my bandages soggy and sticky. The chilled air was biting past my jackets. "Who put this curse mark on me?! Why don't they want me down in Hell?!"

It was useless. The demon was gone now, twirling through the muck and slime of the underground sewers. _FUCK!_ I slammed my fist down on the bars, ignoring the sting of burnt flesh being banged. I would have to take some pain pills later…

I stalked back to Stan's truck, wrenching open the door, the gauze getting stuck to the handle underneath. I scoffed, pulling off the damn wrappings and tossing them over my shoulders. I climbed up inside, taking the wheel and throwing the car back on drive. The others in the car hesitated to speak.

Well, except Kyle, of course.

So I took him home first.

"I'll just…" he started then stopped as he saw his house. He sighed, throwing open the door and getting out dejectedly. "I'll keep looking then. Maybe I'll find something. Call me if anything happens later."

"Work on the water demon, we still have a clock to beat out here," I suggested, shifting the gears. Kyle nodded, closing the door. I locked it on automatic and accelerated out of the neighborhood to Cartman's place. The fat ass hobbled out and left me to brood. It seemed he too had something on his mind… whatever.

The next was Stan's place. I was planning on stealing his ride for a bit… he'd find out why later.

Stan was quasi-catatonic. I parked the truck in his driveway and practically pushed him out. I stumbled, using his bunch of waded up crap his used as both his car keys and home set. A couple of chains dangled from my fingers as I was fumbling with the lock. I had a bit more luck today as his parents were both at work and his sister had already flown the coup to college.

I groaned when I saw the numerous amounts of stairs leading to his room. I didn't want his parents to find him but… unfortunately, laziness takes priority over secretes. I dropped him on the couch. Stan groaned, turning over on his side and curling up. I hummed to myself, wondering if I should leave him. I was feeling responsible…

I threw a blanket over the black haired jock, feeling a little bit lighter in the heart. I turned to walk away when a hand shot out of nowhere and gripped, pretty hard too, onto my wrist. I winced, looking back to see those brown eyes all wide…

"Kenny…"

I stifled a gasp as I felt my knees give out a bit. Stan's power was still turned on, flesh against flesh, zapping my spiritual energy… I jerked up and the poor guy almost fell off his sofa. Instinctively I swooped down to keep him steady.

The next thing that happened was slow… I think… but it was just so… unlike him. I couldn't place it.

Those brown eyes closed and his head tilted up, his mouth falling across mine. My eyes widened about a large as dinner plates. As the pressure increased, I pushed him down, back into the couch and pried myself from his hold. Stan was gazing at me as I tripped backwards, knocking against his TV. With a yawn, the guy flipped back over and began snoring within the next couple of seconds.

I shook my head, wiping at my mouth furiously as I exited the living room and out the house. Somehow, though, I remembered to lock the door before hopping back into the vehicle. I started the engine and took off, cupping my chin in my hand as Butter's place came into view just a few blocks away. I hit the brakes lightly and then switched back into neutral to turn off the car. I took a deep breath, looking back to see the peaceful angel snoozing in the back seat.

I was really careful to make sure he wouldn't wake up. However, his parents were home, and I stuck out my tongue in concentration as I had to scale the tree in front of his window to make it in without being discovered by the adults. I found the panes open and shifted Butters weight as I scuttled into the room wearily. I laid the boy on his bed, tugging off his sneakers and placing them by the door.

My heart was pounding as I pulled off his sweater, seeing a ridiculous Hello Kitty shirt on. It was much too old and full of holes. Pale skin peeked up at me, his little stomach lifting up and down in a sweet, sluggish rhythm. I chewed on my middle fingernail on my right hand as I debated unzipping his jeans… but knowing my luck it would be his laundry day—since he had on such a cute t-shirt—and then there he would be wearing no…

So I unzipped them. He had on some plain old green boxer shorts.

I tossed the pants into his full hamper basket and drew his covers up. I tucked him in and trailed my knuckles across his supple cheek. It was a fondness of mine I am not ashamed to admit. Times like these… I can imagine he might like it too…

"Kenny…"

I couldn't exactly breathe at that moment.

I had heard my name whispered like that before… a mere half hour ago…

I didn't notice really. My mind blanked out and I was out of that house. I practically bounded out of the tree and into the car. I struck the gas pedal as hard as I could and flew away.

By the time I could regain real thought, I was at the park. I had stopped, car stalling and elbows on the wheel. My hand was covering my mouth recalling Stan's awkward and out of character kiss and I couldn't help it as my inner monologue spilled into my palm…

"Stan tapped Butters… he had Butters thoughts and feelings inside him… it was too overwhelming for him… and he—Butters… wants t-to… kiss me…!" My hand fell on to the steering wheel. I could have smiled... I could have… but I saw the tattoo on my flesh and I shivered.

My muscles twitched and my bones grated together as I tighten my fingers into my palm, making a fist. I let in a cleansing lungful of air. I realized right then that there was something dangerously intertwined with Cartman's vision, the imp, and the one who started all of these rogue demons.

And I swear, I'm gonna find out who, even if it kills me!

**TBC  
A/N**: So I ended here… dang. Thirteen pages. That's long. Specially for my South Park fics. There is just a lot of stuff in this one… too much almost!

A bunch of random stuff just happens… Yeah. Odd, ain't it?

My plot is shaky. I haven't actually been paying attention too much. My fingers are just typing out stuff. I think it's coming along nicely though, ya know?

Anywho—I want to hug Butters. I love my KennyxButters. I don't know why. I just do. My brother agrees with me for some reason. He use to be all up in arms with his Cartman and Kenny pairings… now he's not. I think he switched to Cartman and Kyle stuffs. I don't know. He likes weird pairings sometimes. Right now he's really into Avatar…

I like Zuko…

But yeah, the ending's sort of off for me. The Damien thing has significance… You just don't know what it is yet! HAHA! What's Kenny gonna do with Stan's truck?? Let us find out shall we…

Er, just in the next chappy. Oh, and yeah, the title is a bit of an inside joke for me XD

HAVE FUNS AND REVIEWS 'CAUSE I HAS LOW SELF ESTEEM!

(_**SteelAgainstIvory**_)


	6. Read The Lipstick Trace

A/N: FLASH BACKS

**A/N: **FUUUUUUUUUCK! My internet went down for, like, ever!! I AM SO SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED! –cries- Awwwwwwwwww, I suck.

But yeah, I am back now! Err… kind of. Right now I'm borrowing computers and stuff and… ugh. I had to resort to loose leaf paper for one of my fics because I didn't want to lose it… Loose leaf paper is annoying to me. Bleh… anyways—to my loyal reviewers!

To **Willa**: You will never know how much I love you! I am so glad I have reviewers like you! You keep me writing!

To **Matchstick****Fighter**: You are just awesome, I always smile when I see reviews, thank you so!

To **Edley****Ashward**: Hehe! You boost my very low self-confidence so much! Err… -hangs head ashamedly- My bad. I see everything so clearly in my mind I don't slow down and end up skimping on the details. But I'm trying, I swear!!

To **Determined**: Butters is always so cute! Yup, yup. I always have a back-story for some reason. Then again, I am terribly weird.

To **Animemusic16**: Haha, let's find out, shall we? –evil grin-

To **Ravenbolt**: Dangs, yes, I know. My summaries suck really badly. I do so love the Kenny/Butters pairing! In fact, a friend and I of mine call it Kutters. Lol, thank you, thank you for giving me a chance!

To **FXL**: Ahh shucks! You're gonna make me blush! Thanks!

To **PyroPixie**: Lol, thank you much.

To **Fireness**: Yes, I suck at spelling and grammar. I know. Le sigh. However, I am glad you enjoy the story. I'll do my best to keep it up to par!

**Warning:** Gay stuff. Lots of it. And random bits of … supernatural.

**Disclaimer:** Me love South Park long time! Me no own though… me sigh.

**Summary:**

**Remember:**

"Blah" – Speech

_Blah_ –Thoughts

Blah – Self Explanatory

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

CHAPTER FIVE—Read The Lipstick Trace

There has always been something wrong with me. Ever since I was this tiny, itty, bitty baby, there has always been something horribly wrong with me. Yet no one would explain it. After dying a few times and then telling my buddies about it, they just stared at me stupidly. Someone, I forgot who, sat me down and told me that when people die, they do not come back from death. I protested and even showed them. Then they killed me again in horror.

After awhile I stopped telling people I could die. Eventually it would just become common knowledge. South Park was rather… weird. Here, people didn't really care for much. Hell, once Hell did come to us up in Colorado. Not a lot of residents worry for that recollection though.

It just sort of happens.

Lots of shit sort of happens.

Nevertheless… no one realizes that the strangeness that has been floating around the world has increased tenfold and that it all sucks. I can boil the strangeness down to a bunch of different stuff on the occult, but I won't. In the end, no one is going to be bothered by it, or by the fact I am risking my ass to save to world one demon at a time. Oh, yeah, Kenny can die, but he'll be back by the next day!

Not this time though…

Luckily for me, I have been training this habit of returning from the grave into something a bit more useful in case I lose a limb and don't die. I can pretty much heal myself. Pretty much. It depends sometimes. I can't exactly flick this power on whenever I want like my pals can.

It takes a lot of will power and a whole sack of concentration to do it.

And it hurts like the devil.

So, I stole Stan's truck and am now down by Starks Pond, my hands buried under the ice as I'm screaming with my mouth full of snow quickly turning to slush with the intense heat of my breath. I have just re-grown the flesh on my hands—they were the only thing severely damaged by the imp.

It had felt like fire, ironically, almost like I tried to turn back the hands of time. Burning is such an extreme sting; it's almost like thousands of paper cuts with salt being poured into them and then ground lemons on top of them to wash out said salt.

The bandages were useless and had come off anyway, so I just thought I out to drive out to the middle of nowhere to concentrate and fix me up a bit better since I can't wait to be reborn again without the kinks. The guys are a bit clueless to this aspect of my regeneration. But just a bit. I like to leave them out a little. They shouldn't have to deal with all this life-after-death-crap because I suckered them into it by accident. However, they _are_ doing the best they can…

I lay, panting in the snow, my newly formed hands throbbing. My vision was swimming and the periwinkle sky above me was seriously making my heart ache for Butters. Same color blue of his eyes…

The clouds shifted in the breeze, cool and with the hint of evergreen pines. I let my muscles loosen as I imagine the one person I crave for beside me. We would lie, breathless from exerting too much energy by touching. That was all. Just innocent touching. The feel of soft skin, the glow of the sunlight bouncing off his fluffy little head, the way the it would look!

"Damn, if only I had a camera…"

"You could always borrow mine," an accented voice answered. I jumped and spun back to see a blond English man rummaging in his bag for a digital camera. I breathed a sigh of relief as it was just Pip. Good ol' little angel.

Or would be angel.

I kicked the poor guy outta Heaven. Whoops, my bad.

"Hey, what are you doing all the way out here?" I questioned, wobbly trying to stand. I was tired with everything that happened in such a short span of time for me (dying and coming back to hear Butters was in trouble, nearly dying for real, going to the hospital, running over a demon, getting a kiss-not kiss, and then having to grow my pitiable hands back to their original state).

"Oh…" Pip said, glancing up to smile, "Nothing actually. Just felt like… walking."

I scrunched up my eyebrows, not moving as he went back to searching for his camera. The Brit was a bad liar.

That was when a thought popped into my head. I can't die for a while… and Damien can't really hurt since he is not allowed to leave Hell… I grinned evilly as I walked over and flung my arm around Pip's girly shoulders. He squeaked like a mouse and dropped his camera. I was lucky enough to catch it with my other free hand. Pip's large eyes zeroed in on the tattoo on the palm.

"Where'd you get that?" he pointed.

"A demon," I casually shrugged. The boy stiffened and I chuckled under my breath as I pushed the long haired blond over to the ugly and dented navy truck. As I fumbled with the camera taking a couple of pictures here and there I started to interrogate Pip. "Do you like someone?"

"H-Huh?" he choked, blushing up to the roots of his head and tips of his toes.

"Ya see, I got a friend," I went on, snapping a few pics around the place, watching the LCD screen closely. "And he is totally smitten with you."

"Oh, I-I'm sorry, but I am not really interested…" the boy looked at the ground, sighing. I twirled him around, catching him off balance and he plunged to the ground. I clicked the button on the camera and got one of Pip, looking adorably confused up into the lens, legs splayed and hands daintily brushing the tangled hair away from his orbs.

"Well, you still never answered who you liked," I bugged. Pip, dusting powder from his pressed khakis, pouted (I think boys like Pip and Butters either pout or smile while they have big watering eyes that make you wanna hug 'em to death until they giggle like small kids).

"I don't really think that is any of your business," he replied. I put on a shocked face. I wasn't, to be honest, I have had a whole lot worse yelled at me. But I knew this would make him feel guilty. His politeness—which is much too great mind you—kicked in and he apologized profusely. Somehow I managed to wrangle a tiny spec of info from him.

"He doesn't live here…" Pip mumbled. He padded over the truck and I threw down the rear gate to let him sit. I was in the mood for a bit of sane company. Hopping up on the bed of the truck, I stared up at the sky like before.

"Does he live in Paris or London or wherever you're from?" I inquired. The boy snuck a glance up and shook his head negatively. "Another state then?"

Head shake numero dos.

"Where the hell is the bastard?"

"Exactly… where…?" he breathed out. I blinked (I do this when confused if no one caught on). Pip rolled his eyes at me. "I do not know where he is."

"Is he, like, on the internet?" I was stabbing at things now really. "How do you talk?"

"We haven't… not in couple of years… but sometimes in my dreams," he confessed. I folded my arms over my chest as a bitter wind blew past and ruffled our coats, the flapping of fabric reminded me of broken wings of a bird.

"So what's that like," I asked softly, "Being in love with someone you never see?"

"Painful… It almost drives you crazy… I thought I saw him last night… but it couldn't have been… his hand couldn't touch me at all…" Pip smiled, heartbreakingly enough, as he swung his legs from his spot on the overhanging.

"Why do you love this person?" I sincerely wanted to know. The kid shrugged.

"I dunno… he's supposed to be mean, you know? He hurt me long ago, but he's all there is in my heart… I… can't tell you why," he tilted his head at me, I took another picture just for the heck of it. "Does that make me a masochistic? Or is there something wrong with what I feel?"

"I don't think so!" I rapidly answered, shoving the camera into my lap. The Brit practically leapt in surprise. "Never, ever feel that way! Got it? Love is Love, Pip… I understand…" Pip genuinely gave me a happy grin, blushing at his stared over at the ivory blanketed ground.

"Thank you…"

"Yeah…"

After a few hours of mindless chatter, Pip trotted away toward his loveless home while I hopped in the truck. I sat there, turning on the engine to run the heater. I pressed the power on button for the digital camera and was randomly flipping through the photos I took with the kid's camera.

I sucked on my bottom lip, a slight whistling noise escaping, and finally found the recent pictures. This was mine only until tomorrow when I would have to return it sometime at school. I let go of my lip and inclined the seat back, slowly raking my eyes down the screen. So far I couldn't spot anything worthwhile in the pictures.

Ya see, I didn't just take some snaps willy-nilly.

A reason I am in my photography class is because I need to see things normal humans can not. I must either rely on whatever I am dealing with… zombies, vampires, werewolves, imps—all have physical forms. Ghosts? Angels? Demons? They have a spiritual form. They can't be seen by the naked eye. I have to use the aide of technology or find the "sight" to see them...

I mean, well, my otherworldly sight is actually pretty good but healing takes a lot out of me. That takes too much effort (and I nearly killed myself today). But, eh, whatever. I just need a bit more rest. First things first though, I need to see this water demon.

I paused as I saw something glowing on the screen. I tilted the camera, getting almost a photo-negative of an outline of the banks beneath our feet. I tilted the camera back up, going to the menu and shopping the pic to black and white only. Sure enough, when the screen changed color, you could clearly see a face wavering under the ice about our toes.

"I got to get home to print these…"

I quickly shut off the camera and threw it in the seat next to me; heading back towards Stan's to drop off his car…

The crappy computer in my house (dubbed Craputer) is probably only an asshole to me. It works great for cheapass limewire connections and my dad surfs porn like nothing, but when I must to use it, it never works. Like it senses Kenny is in desperate need so it dies on me.

Thus I am banging on the ancient screen, my tears duct going dry as I cry nonstop. Why of all times—every time really—must it do this to me?! I finally got some stuff to throw out to Kyle and it is **dead**.

"Moooooooooom," I complain in such a stentorian voice that Craputer shakes from the force. "The damn computer ain't working again!"

"**Kick it then!" **is her wonderful response.

"Very helpful, ma!" I shout back. I kick it.

And whaddaya know? It works.

"Sonva—" I grumble and plop down, going to work on the damn pic, highlighting and circling any face I see. I save it to my special files. Yeah, for some odd reason, we all have computer files on the "cases" we have had. This is number… shit, 666.

I pause. I wonder… could this be a coincidence?

I quickly type in the significance and send the photos to Kyle; also asking the bastard how he could speak to Damien through email chats. It would be helpful to me because, let's be honest, I do the brunt of the work in this operation. But oh well, that can be talked over another day or somethin'.

A wave of exhaustion suddenly hits me as soon as the email is sent. I really did burn out my spiritual energy today… Damn, I am going to need to sleep. I can get up early in the morning and figure stuff out from there. I shut of the computer and shuffle into my room, slamming the door with a kick behind me. I crumple into the mattress and breath out a sigh of relief as I can finally relax now.

I check the clock. 6:16 pm. Nice…

From there I don't remember sleeping, but I vaguely recall a dream… It definitely had Butters in it. And Pip. Both smiled. But one seemed so unreal… Like it was… a test.

I tried to answer, but I can't recall what it as they frowned and shook their heads, then the dream fades from memory and I am in the nothingness…

I awoke sometime around the butt-crack of dawn. I didn't want to go to school. My hands were fine now, but the building that imp burned to a fiery crisp certainly isn't. I should probably skip the next few days of school. At least until I figure out what I can do about this whole situation.

So… I decided to suck it up and just read the premonition Cartman had about Butters death.

I sneak out into the living room where the computer lazes its bulky frame on the (fake) wooden table no one sits at after my bro left home. I scratch just under my chin, glancing back and forth as I realize mom is still sleeping in her room down the hall (you can hear the snoring—lady like, huh?).

My ass is firmly planted in the creaky stool of a chair and I flip on the MASTER button and then the tower. I go to my home screen under BADASSSUPERIMORTALKENNY to log online. God damn Internet Explorer. I want, like, MSN or PeoplePC, or AOL… Ahh well, we be po' folks.

Lovely restaurant that place…

I go to my account on AOL, typing in my address and then rising to get a morning snack from the fridge. I spied something green with my little eyes, but I wasn't going to eat it because it spied back. So I swiped a PopTart. The food of the Gods!

I munched it, going back to find the page I needed fully loaded and I pulled up my email from Kyle. It was forwarded from Cartman's address. Gulping, I bend over to read it…

_I am alone. Terribly, unbearably alone. These thoughts enter my mind first._

_Nothing I can do keeps me here… here on this bright, sallow mantle of land…_

"_Come," it calls to me. I can feel my blood freeze in place. I'm caught in a trap, I know it, but I do not worry. No more caring… no more… no more… "Yes, I can feel your pain," it goes on._

_Voice like lace… breath in and go forwards…_

_It's a ambush, I know… but I'm so tired… so tired of fighting… so tired of it all._

"_You won't have to lie…"_

_A crack in my spirit, in the ice, and I am gone. I know this now. I purposely chose this path. To fall into the murky depths I have so longed to be in… Down… down… down… into the dark. Take me there._

_A face… I can not see it clearly… Beams of light, scattering, making stars as the ice chips dance around. Gold wraps around, floating, licking the back of my neck… I toss my head up, feeling my eyes flutter shut…_

_There's a lullaby under here… it exhales vanilla… In it goes… like a kiss. I can feel it gripping, the face pressed close to mine, face flat and eyes round, glowing. I won't be floating down anymore…_

_But I'll be stuck._

_Forever… _

"_What a fool…"_

_I have to reach! A mistake! A mistake!_

_Kick, struggle, scream! The face shimmering, glaring, trying to hold down, strangle, bones as fingers… Reach! Towards that bright ginger sun in the sky… It's falling… falling… like me…_

_I can feel it… the oppression…_

_So lonely… but I can't… I…_

_My name… is called… strong and sure… It brings me up, disentangling me from the sickly arms of my court of errors. But the air that shudders in can't escape. I breathe out the only name I think of._

_The sun hushes me. Calling out, "Butters," so._

_The ground shifts in response… pointing off… warning… helping…The sign waits. Clear and my eyes can see it. It reads… it paces… Death told me… gave me the sight to know… I do not wish it so…_

_But I'm so lonely…_

_I want to die not in the arms of the sun, but of the moon._

"_Please…" I beg… but the sun can not possibly understand. Yet… he does. I knew it… I…_

_With a plea, with a cry, it's gone. It's done._

_And so the sun shines no more for me and darkness is my comfort. All I have ever desired._

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

WHAT THE _**FUCK**_?!

**TBC**

**A/N**: Cryptic, eh? Yeah. I dunno what the fuck I am writing half the time. Does anyone else? So, I stopped here… 'Cause the fingers told me to. HAHAHA! UNTIL NEXT TIME!


	7. MegasaurousRex Can’t Read The Map

A/N: Time skip

**A/N: **I love reviews so much!! Therefore, I love those who review me more. Shame on the non-reviewers, shaaaaaaaaame! Oh and by the way, I am listening to the old SWAT KATZ cartoon. I am thinking of finding a sort of… theme song for my ficcies now! SQUEEZELES! LOOOOOVE ME!

Please?

To: **AnimeMew**: I owe you a special shout-out because, like the dumbbell that I am, I forgot to check my messages and comments before uploading my fifth chapter… and so… DEDICATED TO YOU!! Especially since you reviewed me despite I gave you no comment last time. Forgive me, luvs!

To **iluvkenny**: Oh yeah, Pip totally lurves Damien. Tis one of my favorite pairings!

To **Fireness**: Hahahahaha! Worry not! The Kutters action will soon be jammed packed into cute lil' chibi jars of AWWW!

To **Digi-Girl101**: Lol, t'ank you, t'ank you! And no problem whatsoever!

To **Rawxramen**: LMAO! Ohhhh… yeah. I love fucked up minds. No worries! I am updating as you have read this. YAY!

To **MatchStick Fighter**: Your comment made me soooooooo happy, you have NO idea :D

To **Willa**: -dances gladly- Great! I'm excited about what happens!

To **Edly Ashward**: Aww! You! You're like ambrosia for my writer's soul! Here's the next chapter! I hope you enjoy!!

**Warning:** Gay stuff. Lots of it. And random bits of … supernatural.

**Disclaimer:** Me love South Park long time! Me no own though… me sigh.

**Summary:** In which weapons are introduced, slight Style is pronounced; a cute little girl from Hell cries, Death's methods of people's life is explained, and of course all this means Kenny has had a really bad day.

**Remember:**

"Blah" – Speech

_Blah_ –Thoughts

Blah – Self Explanatory

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

CHAPTER SIX—MegasaurousRex Can't Read The Damn Map

"OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR STANLEY MARSH!"

So, hi.

Today fucking sucks.

And school hasn't even started yet.

After reading about this terrible frickin' vision Cartman had, like, four nights prior, I mentally sort of snapped. It just made absolutely NO sense to me. None, notta, nothing, zip, zero, zilch, nil, nien, nin, non, cero, and anything else that I can't think of at the moment that means NOTHING. I practically threw my computer to the floor in frustration.

I run over to Cartman's—fatass ain't home. He's at school. He works on the committee of the student body (lard-o just wanted to loiter his power over everyone is all). So Eric is working overtime in trying to help fix the damn building that got blown up. WHY of all times does he NOW have to have a good, decent, and well meaning bone in his overtly large body?!

Why?! _Why_?! WHY THE FUCK **NOW**?!

GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!

I go over to Kyle's. His bitch of a ma tells me he is at Stan's. He slept over again. SLEPT OVER MY IMMORTAL ASS CAKES!! GAAAAAAAH!

So yeah.

This means I am here, in the freezing cold in naught but my skinny jeans, and a sweater I happen to throw on once I realize it's snowing in the light morning. Continently, I have no shoes to change into. My baby toe on the left foot might not exist now. I ain't looking down anytime soon to check, so I am only assuming.

My fist bangs on the door so freaking hard, I can feel the bones jar under my blue tinted skin. Wood chips actually start to bounce back off at me. I ignore it and ruthlessly pound, yelling obscenities.

"QUIT FUCKING HIDING THAT BASTARD AND EXPLAIN TO ME—"

The door snaps open and my clenched hand bangs down on a helmet of pure steel 'cause I'm still thinking the door is there.

I forgot Kyle was smart.

He hid under an old army helmet… _nice_.

For him I mean. Not me.

Immediately I feel the bones grate together and then burst apart. Stan shouts something and I blink as I see bits of bone and marrow fly up and over my head. Kyle cringes from under his protective helmet, giving me time to reflect that it was _my hand_ that was split up so… um… well, nastily.

"Ow…" I mumble. Then my eyes widen and I spin on my heel, cradling my arm protectively. "Oh _fucking_ oooooooooowww!"

Oh **damn** does this _hurt_!

"Kenny, what the f…" the Jew begins, lifting the headgear off his curly crimson cranium (w00t! Alliteration! Don't you love it so?).

"Dude, I think we broke him," Stan stage whispers to his super best friend. I growl under my breath as I crumple up and flop over into the snow. The empath takes a step back and shakes his hands, rubbing them in a way which means he must be gauging the physical feeling. "Yup, definitely broke him."

"I'm fine!" I grit through my teeth as I wobbly turn my head to them. I breathe harshly, making the snow melt into slush with the force of the temperature. You know, I heard human mouths can get to 105 degrees Fahrenheit or more. "I read Cartman's vision."

"Is that why you're so angry?" Kyle asks while flicking his green orbs over to Stan. The guy jerks his head into the house. Both young men step out and the raven closes the door with something a bit softer than a slam, but not by much.

"I'm not the best student," I muttered, burying my hand in the ice. Sludge was quickly flowing about my open wounds in short spurts. _Shit!_ I just fixed my damn hand too!

"C'mon Ken, we'll explain it to you in the truck," Stan offers, giving me his arm. I grasp it and lurch upwards, spouting curses under my breath. Kyle takes the other side of me, aiding as much as he could. "We got some stuff to show ya anyways…"

While I am bandaging up my hand in the back of Stan's God forsaken Toyota, I throw him sideways glances. Of course, since he is driving, he can't notice. Don't mean that Kyle doesn't. Stealing little peeks from under his stupid faded grass green hat, the genius sighs to himself. He, however, just possibly believes it is because I have no clue where we are going… he is _partially_ correct. The fact is… I just want to speak to the empath alone. I want to know what Butters thinks about me **for sure**.

"Here, gauze," the redhead finally speaks after a bit of the twisting through the narrow town streets. Noticing the buildings getting sparse from each other, I realize we are going into the backwater part of South Park a bit past my place.

"Oh," I managed to say, plucking the roll of aid from his open palm, "Thanks…"

I tear at the package with my shiny teeth, expertly beginning to mend my broken hand. I pause as I notice the burn mark on my skin has grown from a scarlet to a deep, bloodied burgundy. _It's getting darker…_

"Gauze must be like a second skin to you, huh?" Stan interrupts my thoughts by voicing his own. I glance up and nod sharply. Tighter and tighter I bind my wound, not caring about the seeps of congealed blood running down my pallid wrist. Pain has become like a second way to breathe as well. As long as it still aches in my body, I must be alive. To be alive, I must be winning _something_.

"Why are we going to Jimbo's?" I question in a grunt. "That bastard killed my zombie!"

"You figured it out, eh?" Kyle asked. My head bobbed up and down, and suddenly my world blurred for a moment. Must be going into shock already. Stan noticed and the lane swayed from the viewpoint of the dashboard.

"Hand him some water," Stan ordered. Kyle swiped up a stale bottle from the floor of the passenger seat and I grabbed it, twisting the cap and chucking it out the window with a scowl. I drank in a stupor, focusing on using just a bit of energy to keep me alert and healthy. Without my knowledge, the vehicle stopped outside of the shed of Stan's uncle.

I glanced up in time to see both of my buds leap out. I somehow was able to crawl out, grumbling and shaking in the wintry air. They did not pay attention to me in the slightest as the moved out to the shed door. Kyle knelt to the lock on the chain, and sticking out his tongue in concentration, popped it open with a couple of well placed turns. The empath from there hauled the wide decrepit looking doors off to the sides. I gasped in absolute delight as the beams of the sun streamed in, dust catching, and glinting up at me like floating treasures.

All three of us stepped in cautiously while Kyle whistled.

"You know how Jimbo is, Kenny," Stan explained by way of a grin, "Remember how he use to be into the occult? What with capturing video evidence of frogs that could kill with just a look? Well, Ned decided to help him out. Went to a bunch of grunt work and made him weapons for each classified thing you could think of. He just finished making the collection last week. However, Jimbo doesn't care much about those things now, so when Ned mentioned them at dinner the other night… well, suffice to say, if we are going to meet with the head hancho, I figured we might need all the help we can get."

"Jeez-zus," I muttered, tiptoeing over to finger some of the weaponry. There were guns of all sizes, each with different and categorized cartridges… knives and blades… and oh! A bomb…! I must be in Heaven! "If Kyle wasn't your uke, I would ask you to take me on one of these benches right here and now."

From the muffled choke I heard to my right, I knew said uke was probably turning as red as a lobster. Stan just shrugged and strut over to pick up one of the calibers I was gazing at longingly.

"Actually… about yesterday…" he started mutely. I dared to seek out his eyes. The poor guy was looking anywhere but me. It made me smirk. Instead of taunting him mercilessly, I leaned to the side, waiting as I scooped up a 'classic' revolver. Hmmm, twelve chamber rounds… interesting.

"L-Listen, you know that was Butters, right?" he asked. I stuck out my tongue and picked up the bullets to go with said beauty. This gun was labeled as the "AGAINST ALL ODDS" edition. From what I saw, it contained holy water, garlic, shavings from various herbs, barks, silver, and scrolls with ancient protective spells put into a blender and then molded with a holy fire from an ancient temple while cooled in waters from the river Christ was baptized in.

"So…?"

"Kenny… Butters… really…" Stan struggled to find the words. I just waited some more. Finally, he let out a deep breath and played with the lining of the weapons. The imprint of the weapon I chose was empty and seemed to be lonely in such a full place. "It's odd. He knows he loves you—" I won't deny this didn't make me flush in pleasure, "But he can't really say it. There's just something… wrong. I don't know what it is though."

Roughly, my black haired companion took me aside and hid behind a row of arsenals. This gave me time to consider Stan's desperate need for me to understand. "Kenny, Butters knows something is up, yet he refuses to dwell on it. When I touched him I felt, NO, I saw—"

"HEY KEN! CHECK THIS OUT!"

Stan immediately dropped his hands from my shoulder in such surprise; I nearly fell against the rack of weapons. Kyle emerged from in front of us, carrying a bulky semi with a chain of amo over his slim shoulder.

"This one was labeled for elemental demons," he explained. "Doesn't just count one though, encompasses them all." Tossing it like a toy, I reached out and grasped it. Not so shockingly, it was heavy as an elephant that just got done eating a chocolate cake. However, I lugged it onto the crook of my elbow to study it. I blinked as I spied bible verses written in Hebrew.

"What's it say?" I inquired. Kyle shook his head.

"Honestly, you don't want to know."

We loaded up the truck and nothing more was said about the incidents from previous. Not really anyways. I talked to Kyle about the pictures I sent him. Immediately the fiery haired teen went to his laptop and begins synthesizing the photos and the negatives. He cross referenced all the known and accurately documented pictures and tales of water demons.

As we were riding back to town, Kyle was leaning the seat down, staring at the stain splattered roof of the truck. Bits of fuzz and gunk were stuck up there and, have I the guts to say it, a gummy bear! It's a known fact Stan loves 'em.

"Seems sort of like a cross between a mermaid and a kappa," he stated, twirling a lock of such fine ruby in between his long, orchid colored fingers. Stan was ignoring him pointedly. It made me split into a shit eating grin. You didn't have to be an empath to tell why…

As the guy was going over different methods for how to kill, I sighed. I felt like there was something I wasn't catching on to in this… bland… obscure… and little detailed vision thing of Cartman's.

"There is just something wrong…" I sighed, hooking my arms over the seat and knocking my head against Kyle's. The Hebrew glanced up and sighed. Shaking his head he pulled out some more websites and then started to retreat deeper into previous cases. As I was thinking about poor little Butters, it hit me like a ton of bricks. "HE'S LONELY!"

The screech startled the two in the front and Stan nearly collided into a snow bank as his wrist snapped to the side in a panic, thus pulling the wheel. Kyle's laptop fell to the floor and I heard a crack. Guiltily, I lowered my head, going to hide my face in my hood, when I blinked; realizing all I had on was a white cross-knit sweater.

Oh yeah, and… no shoes.

Stan glared at me from the rearview mirror and Kyle bemoaned his laptop's injured butt. I shrugged and relaxed into the crummy, stuffy back. "Hey, can you guys drop me off at home? I need shoes… and I got to give Pip his camera back." The jock muttered something under his breath and slowed the truck down a bit, taking a left turn and heading down to my house.

They dropped me off at my door, promising to call me if Pip or Butters was in class today. Stan said he had an off feeling this morning. I tilted my head confused but made no mention of it. And for some reason I had a question pop in my mind.

"You never read Cartman's premonitions," I stated, pointing like a duck (what the hell? A duck? Duck's don't point? That was a rather retarded analogy Kenny! C'om get it together!).

"I can't," he shrugged casually. I stepped away from the car window, just staring at him. The empath sighed and rested his elbow on the jam of the door. "Cartman's mind is… well, it's _his_ mind. Visions, dreams, emotions, they all go through filters, Ken… and… I don't like Cartman's."

"Because of his obsession with Kyle?" I ask quietly. Eric's obsession was not paying attention as he was too absorbed in his research. Stan, again, avoided eye contact. "Have you two ever really…?"

"Listen, dude, we got to get to school, we're way late," he brushed me off, changing gears quickly. Sighing he turned back reluctantly. "I have **seen** one of Cartman's weird things before, ya know? But it was a life or death situation and he wouldn't tell me…"

Ohh. I see now. The tap and tell.

I have a feeling this experience didn't end well…

"See ya, guys…" I waved goodbye, my bare feet masked in the snow and my hand mangled beyond repair. Pin pricks shivered up my spine and I let my hand fall, gazing off into the distance as the dinged, old ass Toyota drifted off and down the street.

It felt rather nostalgic for some reason…

…

"_On his face is a map of the world_…" I sang, arms outstretched while I balanced precariously on the beams in the middle of an old children's playground park. "_A map of the world_…"

The ear-buds from my mini-radio suddenly grew too slippery in my chilled ears. They popped right out, dangling from my neck. I hummed the song a little more, leaping off the balance beam. Under the soles of my worn out Vans, I could feel some clotted sand of ice under the snow.

Parents never took their kids here anymore. It was much too dangerous, but a while ago, when they were kids, it was a might fine place I was told. Then one kid had to ruin it and lick a pole in the dead of winter. Stupid, silly brat…

I frequent this spot now; especially when I want to think. Right now… I have a lot to mull over.

The wind picked up, tugging at my sweater, I opted to leave my symbol of orange at home. I tipped my face, enjoying the cool breeze shifting through my hair. I imagined this must be how Butters fingers would feel… shaky, cool, gentle… "_Gwad_ damn, I miss you."

The wind reverberated that back to me. I sighed and shoved my hands in my pocket, my right twitching a bit. I took my pathetic excuse for a self to the hospital under a pseudo name and got it all put back together (rather painfully I must admit) but Hell's Pass can do a whole shit load of wonders. This is partially due to me, I'll say, but it is also they got nothing better to do too.

In my pocket was my cellphone. Both Butters and Pip in school today (Kyle sent me a text). I'll visit them in a couple hours when they get out. The music spilling out from the buds was waving about in the air, causing me to sing along softly again…

"You have a beautiful voice…"

I gasped and spun around in a frightened flash. Someone let out a small squeak and backed up into a tree. I put my hand over my heart, heaving out tiny cusses as I see it is only a small child. In her pink ruffled dressed with curly-Q of golden pigtails. Except for the fact she was sort of flickering in the air and I could see the tree behind her.

"Oh, hey there…" I breathed out. Ghosts don't scare me. I was a ghost once myself.

"'Ello," she replied, giggling and floating over to me. "Damien said I would find you here."

"Oh, so Damien sent you?" I asked. She nodded, her cute ringlets bouncing.

"The leakage in Hell has gotten so much worse, he can't even project himself without having to worry," she clucked sadly, her body slumping. Absently, I could have imagined her being blown about in a gust of wind. However, as it pushed violently against my back, I forgot about it.

"So he sent you?" I questioned, a bit tired. "What is it he wanted to tell me?"

"Someone has been messing with the Hour Glass Hall," she said severely. I felt a cold drop of sweat slid down my spine.

"T-The Hour Glass Hall?" I parroted. She nodded, placing stone colored eyes upon me.

I could feel my very bones shake. The Hour Glass Hall was not something people wanted to mess with. In this endless hallway were the Hour Glasses of every human that ever lived. Evidently, I have one, which was not placed with sand upon the orders of God, and Death has no choice but to obey. It is one of the many reasons I can lie and die and live and die all over again.

A normal human's hour glass is filled with a certain amount of sand. Therefore, it is predestined how long someone may live… well, for the most part. Some times, people die early and their sand remains sitting. Death must take the remaining sand and use it as seen fit. Then there are times when people narrowly escape death, and then Death places more sand in the hourglass. It is said, only this cloaked figure has control over the Hour Glass Hall…

I met Death once. He—She—_It_ is a scary figure.

Who would mess with the Hour Glass Hall? And for what purpose?

"What happened exactly?" I interrogated urgently. The child gulped and tears sprang forth to her eyes.

"Unborn Hour Glasses have been stolen! Some are smashed! And—And then there's—" the child sobbed hysterically. I felt my eyes go downcast. I wanted to pat her on the shoulder, or hug her, give some form of comfort… but you can't touch ghosts. "D-Damien and Satan were planning to have me reborn with my left over sand as a thank you f-for helping with them a while ago!"

"Hey, c'mon now…" I tried, speaking softly and squatting down to her height, "Don't cry. You came to the right person. I'll get back your hour glass for you… I promise… so don't cry…"

As the little ghost sniffled I wrapped my arms over my knees, smiling slightly. Her big watering orbs made my flinch on the inside as they asked if I was serious. _Stolen hour glasses_? There is no way I could find out who would try something that foolhardy… but I had a big guess. What to do was another question entirely.

"You said you liked my voice, right?" I posed, teetering on my tippy toes, "How about I sing you a lullaby? Hmm? Then you can go back to Damien and tell 'im I am on the case!" The girl laughed and bunched up her skirts as she sat down and I sang out an old bedtime song I use to know. Soon enough, her heart-shaped visage relaxed and her head fell to her chest. In sleep she faded away into nothingness before my eyes.

I straightened up, cracking my vertebrae together. I turned off my mini-radio and stalked out of the cluster of evergreens. I could feel a snarl in my throat as I speed-dialed Kyle. Obviously he couldn't pick up the phone 'cause he was in class, so I just left a message.

"We are in deep shit. Someone has ransacked the Hour Glass Hall. I'll give you three guesses as to who's more than likely behind it. Oh, and two of them don't count. Get me information—as much or as little clues as you can for why."

I hung up angrily and squeezed my eyes tight.

As I rounded the school, I was blockaded by fire trucks and ambulances. I stopped and lingered across the roads as several of my peers were loaded up into the white cars with clothes placed over their heads. People were screaming and cursing, and some were absolutely immobile. I sucked in a breath as well as a prayer to God.

I spied Cartman as he walked out of the building, shaking his head and pushing off the councilors. He stumbled and then looked up, catching me. I nodded and he sighed, traveled rigidly over to me. Cars seemed to pass at a snail's pace, the drivers glancing over to see what other mishap destroyed the High School.

"The Hour Glass Hall has been broken into. There was a bunch of damage…" I muttered, trying to locate Stan and Kyle.

"I wondered. I had a momentary attack before it happened… Sand was everywhere…" he sat back with me and just observed. "Their souls are shattered too… aren't they, Kenny?" I nodded. Cartman roughly let out a breath. "Stan felt it too. The life energy being drained from them… Kyle rushed him to the nurses'. He's fine for the most part… but in a catatonic state for today. Maybe tomorrow too. He'll be able to tell more about what he felt when he's better though."

"It's not gonna get _better_, Eric," I seethed quietly. The asshole's utter calmness and almost apathetic take on our—no my troubles—left a sour taste on the tip of my tongue. Cartman just plopped his meaty hand on my shoulder. I jerked and marched into the street, jabbing my finger upwards to the building. "Don't you get it?! The Lover has waged war on us all! He's not going to stop until he gets exactly what he wants!"

Cartman's eyes grew wide and he stepped forward, gesturing something to me. It only made me madder. He continued to _not_ listen. The fire inside of me was building with the hopelessness I felt while I was watching a little girl cry because she couldn't have a second shot at life and I couldn't even _hug_ her, dammit!

"We are the _only_ one's stopping the damned maniac! And I don't know about you, but I have NO clue what he wants!" I shouted, stepping across the painted yellow lines. Eric's eyes widened and he jerked his head to the side. Confused, I glanced up to see a grill in my vision.

"KENNY!"

The scream from behind me made me jump and I twisted around, a frigging SUV whizzed past me. It grazed my arm and I skidded to the asphalt. The horn blared at me in anger. I raggedly let out a deep breath. From the other side of the street, Butters padded up, checking both ways before hopping off the curb and running straight for me.

I staggered to my feet, the smaller lad hesitating as he stared at me with large, watering cerulean orbs. I weakly gave him a smile. He covered his mouth, trying not to let out a noise similar to crying. Then he sprang up and hugged me around my neck. His soft, light scented fabric brushed over my itchy skin.

Warm beneath my trembling hands… I embraced him fiercely, shutting my eyes hard so I could remember every detail of it later in my sorrowful life.

And this… I have decided… would be an okay way to die.

Of course, be careful what you wish for. I look up just in time to see a black SWAT car making a beeline for the school at a speed which could not be reasonable _at all_. Butters and I happen to be standing in the way of their path too.

Ahhhh shit.

See? _See_? Today just got fucking worse.

**TBC**

**A/N**: The first page of this, I was in a really weird mood. I was so deep into Kenny's character; I actually got irate for no reason whatsoever and began chucking things about my room. It was hilarious when I look back.

I was also inspired a bit by watching Hellboy… and now we have Supernatural weapons. Fun huh? Looks like Stan DOES remember what happened. Hehehehe! Ohhhh, but poor Stan… I wonder what the hell is up with Cartman in this ficcy?? Even **I** don't know.

Yeah, the song Kenny is singing? No clue who sings it or what band it's from. My radio was just on (like it always is when I write) and for some reason, the song struck me as a very Kenny-esque song in that ironic way. I also think Kenny has a beautiful singing voice. I should know too. I am in an honor choir (not that I am bragging but—YAY! TWO YEARS OF STUDYING HAS PAID OFF!).

LOOK! THE LITTLE GIRL FROM HELL! Lol. She was adorable. So I threw her in here… and by the way, the Hour Glass Hall I have completely made up so don't go looking for it anywhere (although I wouldn't be surprised if someone finds similar distinctions to things in either folklore or fairy-tales about things close to that). It was random even to me. But… an odd plot came to me the other day and suddenly my ficcy had a direction! HUZZAH DIRECTION!

I promise in the next two chappies the KennyxButters stuffies will go up dramatically. So wait until then! Tata!

(_**SteelAgainstIvory**_)


	8. An Ode To Hatter Maddigan

A/N: Weird interlude thingy before we get to the bigger stuff in the next chapter

**A/N:** Weird interlude thingy before we get to the bigger stuff in the next chapter. Yeah, definitely one of those. Title came to me due to my beloved Anna-chan XD

**Fireness**: Oooh, oh yeah. That's the song. I use to listen to them often. How'd I not figure it out on my own…? Yay! Kenny/Butters 4 EVA!

Oh, and thank you for the pushiness. I like that about reviewers. Lol!

**AnimeMew**: Aw shucks! Jeezy, thank you! Heh heh, the Lover… I wonder when they'll show up? No worries about the shout-out. I do stuff like that. Just me being me.

**Digi**-**Girl10**1: Lol, thank you. Here is your update!

**??**: Haha, so I have been told. Nice song, yeah?

**Flacks**: Aw! I'm glad you like it…He! I love Kenny/Butters. There must be more, I believe! Yes, I quite like the supernatural thing too. Fun, isn't it?

**Edley** **Ashward**: Ah, what can I say? I am what I am. Meh. HP-ness. Don't get me started on that… But anywho! Yeah, Kenny's rather violently inclined. Just wait though, it gets better.

**Willa**: Hmmm, -grimace- You might not like this chappy that much… but it does get better!

**Miss** **Sketchbook**: Lol. Why thankies! Thanks for letting me know the song as well.

**Ravenbolt**: -blush- Wow. Bluntly wonderful. Thank you.

**Spotty Zebra**: Oh, thank you very much. I'm glad you like Kenny so much. Hehe, I really like him too. I've been told I'm very funny. Err, but this chapter is very… well, not to spoil it, but it does get sort of heavy in stuff. **–winces-** Please don't hate me!

**Warning:** Gay stuff. Lots of it. And random bits of … supernatural.

**Disclaimer:** Me love South Park long time! Me no own though… me sigh.

**Summary:** So here Kenny falls into a sewer. Chases an imp. Kills imp. Kenny goes faintly crazed by the fact he just took a life. Some healing Kutters (Bunny) action ensues. Cartman has his fifteen minutes of fame. Oh, and a sorta scary dream happens, but that ain't so important… maybe… possibly. Hopefully for him. But it's Kenny. That means it probably sucks. Well, actually, it does suck. So says the author-god me. –shrugs- My bad ya'll.

**Remember:**

"Blah" – Speech

_Blah_ –Thoughts

Blah – Self Explanatory

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

CHAPTER SEVEN—An Ode to Hatter Maddigan

So recap…

I go to Stan and Kyle to ask about that damn premonition of Cartman. During which, they appease my bloodthirsty nature by giving me weapons—I know, right? While I am thinking over some deep shit, it seems said shit got tossed to the fan. Someone has stolen and broken many hourglasses of human essence. Perfect.

Cue me going to the school to get my friends. I see the effects of the hourglass damage already. Icky. I am so pissed off by the turn of events, and the fact Cartman never really cares to help, that I just start screaming in the street. I am a retard however and a car somehow magically decides to make its appearance right in my face.

Random speeding SUV—the gas-guzzling bastards—almost kills me and Butters saved me. In a very meaningful hug—at least to me—I look up in time to see a SWAT car blasting its way down the street.

Okay? You good with that?

Wonderful. Let us continue!

I know there is no time between now and a couple of seconds of impact. Quick thinking—and really sucky for me—I toss Butters out of the way and straight into Cartman's arms. My buddy catches him mostly on instinct. I see those shocked and wide sky orbs staring into me. Automatically, my breath catches.

My knees give out because this is it. I am going to _die_ for the last, truly real time.

And when I look into those eyes I… don't want to. With all of my might… I want to live.

Maybe that utter desire kept me from noticing the scrapping of the covered man-hole I was sitting on, because suddenly, the harsh shift of metal sliding on asphalt caught against my jean fabric. I winced and glanced down fast enough to crack my neck. Knurled digits the color of sickly blood waved up at me in greeting.

My brows shot up to my hairline and I pounced on that fucking imp quicker than a duck on a June bug. It squealed and the cover to the manhole rocked back and forth, cleaving the path to safety for me. I took the chance in an instant.

The whizzing of that standard issue black van overhead shook me to my bones. Tumbling face first into that dim hole seemed to me like a fucked up and utterly demonic version of Alice in Wonderland. The cute little white bunny was now a blazing, pain in the ass imp and his rabbit hole leading to adventure could only entail danger in my situation had probably worsened tenfold.

My body painfully collided with a shallow tunnel of muck and cement. I sputter and coughed, wiping away all that disgusting sludge I could feel sinking into my sweater and chilling my chest. I did the first thing that I could think of by stumbling over to the edge where there was a least a bit of a walkway for me to gather my perspective better. I shivered as I could feel _something_ nasty slip past my belt.

I let out an ungodly shriek as I flung my sweater—which luckily took the blunt of the fall into that… ugh, I don't even _know_ what it is! —off of me. I swiped most of what I could off of the STAIN-FREE advertised jeans mom bought because she is terribly lazy and hates to do laundry.

I was desperately wringing out my t-shirt when a cackle echoed my way down the winding sewer system.

Shit. Not good.

"Oh _Kennnny_!"

Not good at **all**.

"Hey you bastard!" I called, wheeling around, eyes frantically darting over every nook and crap covered cranny of the sewer systems. "Show you're ugly Goddamned face like a fucking MAN!"

My rotting tennis shoes squelched across the ground and jumbled together with my goading.

"Funny to hear such a thing from a human…" a caustic, wheezed voice sneered. A horned shadow rising near the wall to my left caught my peripheral vision. Being the dum-bass that I am, I shoot straight for it. The shadow yelps as I skid around a corner, leaping after it.

It manages to wriggle out of my slimy grasp and sprint off down the dimly lit corridors of yuckiness. I do a summer-salt on the filthy ground, losing my shirt in the process of pursuing the nasty imp. The whole way it screeches out obscenities and bounces off the bricks.

It began to growl as I kept catching up. Running, just as it happens, was something you got good at after awhile. I doubt the red bastard just beyond my reach had to worry about were-rats coming after you for countless miles of long cornfields. I swear, I still can't eat corn on the cob without shuddering and cursing mice.

I never really could eat corn before, but regardless!

My breathing was reduced to hot huffs of air. Somehow, this underlying tunnel in the earth was colder than up above where snow blanketed every inch of the canvas of South Park. Despite my endurance and better than average stamina, my lungs were already spazzing on me.

The demon wasn't fairing much better—and this was only after a few short moments of chase—but the freezing temperatures were speeding up the numbness in my legs. I had to focus my attention on making sure my feet firmly planted and then pushed off the ground without mistake, and also keeping the imp in my sight… Yet the bastard kept spiraling off some pathway.

I was hoping on some dead end being my savior so I could corner the blasted thing, but we just kept turning and turning! Admittedly, he must have been studying the sewers while we were slacking off on top.

_Just… Keep… Moving!_

My inner mantra worked me to a mind-boggling exhausted enthusiasm.

Yeah, I know. I'm a paradox.

Hell, it's probably a paradox I even know the word paradox!

"Tired… yet… troggling?!" the imp panted back to me, vomit colored spittle sprinkling the flooring. It almost caused me to slip.

"What the hell—" I hissed as my tattooed hand scrapped the passage way wall to keep me upright, "Is a fucking troggling?"

The thing cackled and ricocheted off the floor, hit the ceiling with the thunderous sound of a bowling strike, and dented the next wall as it tried to lose me over the thick current of water, piss, and God knew what else on the opposite path. I slipped around, using my cast as a buffer as I hit an on coming corner I didn't see, as I was too preoccupied with my fugitive.

My nostrils burned with the scent of ammonia and sweat blinded my vision. But as sure as my name is Kenny, that damn imp frickin' _smirked_ at me! Taking in a gulp of putrid air, I shook the bangs out of my eyes that poked like pitch forks in their dampness.

Scoffing, I let the adrenaline propel my feet to the slick edge and pushed with all my might. I soared in a lovely arch toward the damn monster awaiting me at the other side. Wind roared past me in the slurred fury and I noted the edge was farther than I anticipated.

Anger fueled my drive as I landed, feet out in front of me by miles and arms swinging wildly to keep the precarious balance on the other edge. Gritting my teeth, I jerked my hand forward. Miraculously, the rest of my body followed.

Ever wonder what color a smurf turns when you choke him?

I image purple. Kyle argues white. Stan says black.

Cartman answered cheesy poofs.

Err—but I stole that line from a comedian… who plays with dolls.

Anyways, my point being, I might have found a similar answer. That evil red demon's face paled to that of a normal peachy hue. Figures that Jewish genius would know every stupid thing there is to know… but let's keep that a secret between us, yes?

I chuckle and flip him a very gansta peace sign—clearly displaying the mark he help put on me.

"And _**fuck**_ you."

The thing lets out a terrified howl and it jumps up, clearly going for the manhole directly above us. My eyesight snaps up. My pupils dilate fast. I am almost blinded. My sight was clear. That red blotch of evil going for the peaceful little mountain town was outlined crudely by the dark chasm of this man-made hell. Dust swirled down, falling like snowdrift between the mangled talons.

_The pinpricks of sunshine rage like heavenly beacons_.

I didn't realize I had it in me… but that image of light and heaven and hope and freedom made me lash out.

I had seized that creature so quickly, so fiercely, I had not noticed until my cast-arm had locked the scrawny neck onto the wall and I was snarling, glowering deadly. Yellow, sheep-like eyes were taking up most of the frightened face. I was crushing it…

For a brief second I desired no more than to squeeze it's life out—fling it back to the bowels of Hell. Absently, I recognized the fact it would do me no good.

"Who the FUCK sent you?!" I demanded, pressuring it a bit more before releasing it enough so that it could at least squeak out its master's name. It clawed at the heavy plaster, trying to gather enough oxygen to speak.

"Pluh—GAK—! PLEASE!"

"Tell me who you work for!"

"It—It's not that sim—plugfggh!" the demon tried to appease me, but I only leaned my body weight into it. My naked torso began to feel like needles were being shoved into my pores as the light covering of body hair stood on end in the chill. Without the stimulation of the chase to conjure heat I could feel death's cold fingers lingering over my heart.

"Just give me a damn name! Something!" I barked. "_Anything_!" The monster's bulbous head cracked in my hold. I gasped and immediately dropped the thing as a black oil oozed from the seems of it's body. Agony reflect off it's soulless orbs.

"**They're **_**killing**_** me**!"

I wanted to back away, but my feet were rooted to the ground in horror.

"They'll kill me if I say the name! **I know no name**!" it screamed, pitch making my eardrum bleed, literally. My uninjured hand rushed up, capturing the flow of hot bursts of bodily fluids spurting out. "HE DOES NOT KNOW! HE DOES NOT KNOW!"

The sound was ghastly. The images I have seen before cause me bad dreams… but this one will disturb me for all eternity. My nightmares will be like sweet nectar of sleeping minds compared that watching that imp died in absolute fear—for no word besides this can articulate this.

And pain.

The pain leaked into me, as I think it might Stan.

My eyes water by the stench of the oily blood, the revolting excrement's around me, and the pain. Not only physical… but also the emotional ache of death. Try as I might to deny it… I was crying for that wrench of an imp convulsing on that stained place we call Earth. I wanted to help somehow… but I knew, just by looking, that it was going to die. But did it have to die so slowly? So _wretchedly_?!

The tears were frozen on my face, ice ablaze on my skin. From my back pocket, the weight of that all-important weapon was grave. I stretched my hand behind me, without thinking, and I spun the chamber rounds with a flick of my wrist.

_Nononononononononononononononononono!_

"Our father…" I clicked back the safety, whispering. "Who art in heaven… Hallowed be thy name…" The demon was crawling to me, laughing; it's knobby hands tearing my pants fabric. Cool wind rushed through the holes, and I found my knees wobbly. "T-Thy kingdom come… thy will be done, as it—"

"Either mean what you say or say what you mean!"

The strong, gargled voice shocked me and I accidentally twitched in response. It made me squeeze the trigger, blowing away the imp back to… where ever it goes when it dies. Did I even _kill_ it…?

Wait…

What?

Kill…? That's what I am doing…?

God wanted me to… to kill?

Even that pathetic _thing_?

Whatever I did… the stink from the corpse was strong enough to make bile fly up my larynx. I pivoted on my heel, stumbling over to the edge of the walkway, my knees at last gave out, and I dry heaved anything I might have consumed this morning.

PopTarts hurt coming back up, I'll tell ya.

Barfing always makes me feel like shit. That nauseating smell didn't help any. I always thought I was desensitized from violence because of the times I lived in… but memories of few seconds—hold on, could it have been minutes? Hours? Days? Years?! _How come I couldn't tell anymore_?!—clouded my eyes. The sharp jolt of the firearm nearly caused my shoulder to pop out. The sound was still reverberating back to me, yet I had no clue. It was like I was blind and deaf. Replaying the incident with crystal clarity, I observed that I hadn't quite hit the creature the first time, but that it merely combusted and I shot a second time. How could you forget something like that, even for an instant?

I covered my mouth; light fluttered down from the holes in the cement sky, softly flickering as things clanked by with uncaring engines. I knew there was blood the color of sludge dripping from my cheek. My fingertips burned from the powder residue. It gave me an excuse to sob uncontrollably. I couldn't stand the sound of the faintly sizzling monster behind me.

The holy bullets were getting rid of the evidence.

Let it. Damien would soon be finding the demon in a circle of purgatory anyway.

I couldn't stand to look at my own evil…

I burst into hysterical laughter. The irony of killing a demon as a sin hit me hard. Those last words on the earthly plane _**("Either mean what you say or say what you mean!")**_ were replaying in my head like a broken record with scuffed up edges. My head tilted back and I merrily sang to the bright spots of golden sunlight.

"_Will you, won't you, will you join the dance_?"

The light puffed out for a moment and the blackness coated me. My flesh erupted in goosebumps and I could hear shouting from above. It didn't make any sense to me. Vaguely I could recall my own name. But the tears poured down, the tracks sticking to my face. Droplets that would fall sounded like shattering glass, and tinkled magically.

"SOMEBODY WAKE ALICE UP ALREADY!!"

And then God said, "Let there be light…" and the whole of the world was created.

However I was blinded by the sun… so I let that kill me for a while.

…

Clean air was what I craved when I had awakened. The dark, dreamless confines of sleep startled me from any rest. My opens were open, and that was that. _All I could remember_. I ignored everything but the basic instinct of breathing purely for the sake of breathing. I took such deep breaths it stung and expanded my lungs harshly. I refused to cry, I refused to get up and inspect my surroundings… I just wanted fresh air.

I eventually started counting the gulps of glycerol-induced air. By five most of my legs muscles were lose. Count of ten and my torso wasn't tight anymore. It took about forty-seven to work up to my neck and head, making sure my arms were boneless and relaxed.

My emotional meter fell to about three. I was calm enough to work out the distress of the hideous memories of murdering that ugly thing. I wonder if I overreacted to the whole situation?

Either way I just—

My head flopped to the side in slow-mo as a door opened. I blinked, coming to my senses. The entire room was homely, a bit neater than mine, and had a few posters, still it was nighttime as the stars shined through the open window to bask everything in a silver glow (so I wasn't in a hospital…).

My head came up an inch from the pillow as my astonished sight met with the shy figure of Butters. He closed the door behind him, hiding his hands as he did so, staring at me with concerned eyes. The slight boy took one testing step and I instantly sat up ramrod straight. My back collided with a cushioned wall. Butters made a noise of surprise and thumped against the door—his polka dot pj's muffling it.

"A-Am I… dreaming?" I breathed.

Butter's shook his head vehemently, rubbing his knuckles together. "N-No, Kenny! I –That is, somehow Kyle h-he—" As the fluffy blond padded up to the bed, I protested loudly with sputters of unintelligible demands. He hesitated as I puffed against the wall. I could feel my entire body shaking. "K-Kenny…"

"You shouldn't touch me…" I rasped out, reeling in my sobs, "I'll only contaminate you."

"D-Don't be ridiculous…" Butters admonished, those periwinkle eyes sparkling determinedly. I flinched away from his outstretched hand the color and texture of coconut milk. For a minute, he seemed to hesitate, but then, with his childlike grace, he kneeled onto the bed and encircled my rough, scared hands in his tiny ones. In that warm touch, all I could feel was the transgressions seeping from my soul and disappearing… cleansing me in that cool blue color of his innocent eyes.

I cocked my head to the side, letting the sadness stream from me. "How are you…?"

He shushed me calmly with his fingertips brushing my lips. They tingled pleasantly. I closed my eyes and let the boy guide me down into his supple lap. It was warm, moist too. As if he had just showered. It made me smile.

I nuzzled, feeling calm, and let my arms wrap around his thin waist. Butter's little digits began running through my hair leisurely. I almost felt like a cat. I had to be purring… this _had_ to be heaven—if there was one… and I do believe there is. Where else could this young man have been created?

Although it raises the question why they let Butters out in the first place…?

"There is no way this is happening to me…" I mumbled, my lids falling to half-mast as I practically curled up decisively in his petite lap. The small one made a cute lil' noise and then continued fingering my locks. As he did that, I realized the lack of grim in it. Heat rose to me cheeks in a fashion that too much resembled an uke (that's Butters! Not _meeeeee_!).

Could Butter have washed me…?

Why of all times had I slept through THAT experience?!

Sucky…

"Hey…! Where am I?" I question suddenly, unintentionally turning over enough to gaze up at him but ended up falling out of his cozy body.

GAH!

I know, I know… I ruin everything…. Damns.

"Oh…" he said, blinking down at me as if he finally noticed what he was doing to my head. "We're a-at Kyle's. He is downstairs…" My brows form a deep V and I twirl on to my belly to rise.

"Is Stan—?" I begin but my voce cracks. I don't continue as Butters quickly glances away.

"S-Stan's been released after the heavy flood of the injured," my fellow blond gulps and bites his lip. "K-Kyle said that he is hooked up t-t-to a bunch of equipment in his basement…" My eyes widened and I hurriedly spring from the bed, realizing in an instant how cold my chest was. Like pricks of ice. I glance down enough to get a glimpse of tiny scratches and scrapes.

"I have to talk to Kyl—"

"No! Wait!" Butter's melodic voice rings through the room pleasantly. It makes my heart skip a few beats. Automatically, I rub my chest, trying to uselessly tell it to calm down. After a moment, I chew on my lip, twisting my head back to see the youth desperately clutching his pant fabric… as if he wanted to leap up and demand I never leave.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go, I have—"

"I **know**!" he blurts out, forehead scrunched down as his shakes a little from using his voice that loud. I myself am a bit startled and I spin to ease him, my hands squeezing his tense shoulders. He breathes harshly, muscles going liquidly in my palms like a melted ice-cream cone on the fourth of July. His big sky colored orbs shiny in the moonlight pleadingly. "Listen, I-I know there's always s-**something** you have to d-d-do… but just this one t-time… can't you take a break? Please?"

My head falls down and I sigh. "It's not something you would understand."

"I-I-I don't care!" he declared, close to crying. "I… I just… You're… You're hurt." I peer down, seeing the faint blisters and bruises. Butter's hand landed right on my quivering heart. I bite my tongue, afraid to make any noise and scare him away. "Can't you w-wait?" I shake my head no. "Why not?!"

That was when the fat drops of brine started rolling down his cheeks, splashing against the emerald covers of the downy bed. My hands immediately traced up from his shoulders to his appealing, rosy cheeks. My thumbs erased the tears with care. I marveled at his softness of his snowy flesh. My teeth unclamp from my tongue and I manage to croak out, "I have to keep you from harm…"

"I-I'm not—!" he hiccups, leaning into my scarred chest. My fingers embed themselves into his silky hair, pressing him close… I wanted all his worries to fade away like all my sins had…

I don't know how, but while my heart beat like a caged animal and every cell of my body sent sparks of electricity shooting all over me, Butters somehow fell asleep. His tiny shoulders weren't shaking and his breath was deep and unstressed. I hadn't found out until I heard him mumbling. The dream sounded pleasant… I wished he dreamed of me. Good or bad, I wanted his dreams swirling around me… well, no, good dreams hopefully.

I tucked him in Kyle's bed reluctantly, letting the urge to kiss his temple go against my better decisions. Sighing, I took one last look at the slumbering angel, and then I closed the door. I whispered a silent prayer and turned to go to the basement.

What awaited me in the basement stunned me.

And that's the mild term.

Kyle's basement had low lights, using a turner to appropriate the amount needed by the dial on the wall next to the last stairs leading into the clean 15 by 12 foot space of the basement. All the crap that his father kept must have been shoved into the attic, which I firstly found pleasant as a medical gurney was placed across from the stairs and in plain view with headboard against the wall.

Stan was hooked up and sleeping. Those suction cup thingies with wires running from them to a machine were attached to his forehead and chest. There was a breathing mask on him and an IV pinned up his thudding wrist. Off to the side was a carrier for food. It gave me a bit of a pause, as I knew it must mean he was in a catatonic state.

But what really got me, what really gave me a jerk in the gut, was the desk with all of Kyle's medical journals, supernatural files, and laptop splayed everywhere. In the chair was Cartman, leaning back and _cradling_ Kyle while going through flash drives and surfing the internet as if he was completely zen with the fact Armageddon was about to reach South Park and no one could figure out when.

Cartman is always made fun of for being fat. Always. But I should probably let you know, he isn't _really_ fat. To be honest, he might actually just have big bones. His frame is larger than us. Broader than Stan's athletic muscle in any case. Sure there's a bit of a pouch he's got in the stomach. He can't seem to get rid of it.

His growth spurt hit and pounds didn't melt off, but they faded as his body had built up. He matured into a beefy sort of fellow. The kind that would stand at a club door and bounce guys like Kyle and Butters and Pip and all those dudes to the side in order so the honey-bun ladies could saunter in and pucker up to him.

Eric's intimidating frame was perfectly supporting my very femme Hebrew pal, tucked up with closed eyes sporting tracks of thick tears. They seemed hours old and absently, as his scarlet curls brushed against the hard skin of Cartman, it sent a bad vibe through my belly. Like, it just shouldn't be…

"You're late," he accused, and I was startled out of my thoughts. Eric was staring right at me, face placidly bemused. The guy didn't lower his voice, but Kyle never stirred from his position. He reminded me of a breakable puppet in Cartman's giant hands—speaking of which, one was absently stroking the light bit of backside that was uncovered by the slight bend the Jew was snoozing in… it was fetal like, but with his slim legs dangling downwards from the high perch.

"I-I need to speak with Kyle," I tried to order it out, but my voice broke and I grit my teeth.

"He's sleeping," Eric answered, head cocking back to the computer screen. His free hand clicked away at the mouse. Kyle made a bit of a noise at that, hands chokingly pressed against his chest as well as Cartman's.

_Too intimate!_ My mind screamed.

"I know he's tired…" I started but Cartman sent me a mini-glare.

"He's exhausted," he corrected. "We were throwing things up in the attic all day long to get that comatose bastard down here—and don't even get me started on how much work **that** took." I shook my head, deciding not to ask.

"How did I end up here?" I asked. Eric yanked his free hand up and pointed his thumb in Stan's direction. Stupidly, I blinked.

"Woke up while we were putting him all square, came to and grabbed Kyle's arm. He's still got the marks too. Stan told us where to find you. That you were in danger…" that free hand fell down and Cartman bit his thumbnail, reading something off the laptop, eyes narrowing. "Kyle ran to go save you, bleeding arm and all."

I wondered if Eric thought of Kyle running off to rescue him from some unfathomable enemy. Suddenly, it occurred to me, of course Kyle wouldn't. He practically loathed Cartman after everything the bastard put him through. I knew, despite Kyle's moral objections, he would not help Eric Cartman.

And Cartman knew that too.

Then Kyle groaned out, shifting and Eric shuddered, bringing up his arm to secure the boy, but those piano hands gently pushed the burly limb down. Sliding groggily, the genius fumbled to the floor. I was faster than Cartman, so I sensibly scooped him up before the lard ass could get a chance to set off this hot bubbling in my belly for a second time.

"Morning sleepy," I said grinning; feeling entirely better… like the room's atmosphere had lifted.

"Kenny…" Kyle mumbled, as if relief washed over him. My face slipped a little. The redhead buried his face into the junction of my shoulder and neck. Fresh brine spilled from his eyes.

"I know..." I whispered and brought my arms up, loosely giving him strength. "I know."

…

"Stan has limited brain activity," Kyle muttered. It was like, if he spoke quiet enough, it would all be bogus somehow. I sighed and looked away from the sorrowful face of the genius. His fingers were clicking away at the computer, but I wasn't paying attention. Cartman decided to split halfway through our conversation. He had intentions of sleep, and not anywhere in the infested house of diseased Jews.

Whatta Neo Nazi son of a…

"Do you think his hourglass got smashed?" the redhead questioned. He picked up a pair of reading glasses, wiping them carefully with the hem of his dirty shirt (he probably hadn't changed from all his work today). I shook my head, feeling the tense boy beside me relax a bit.

"I think it's just sensory over-load… His mind must have just shut down temporarily…" I hypothesized. My hands twitched, wanting to form fists. "This is all my fault. I should have told him to not be searching so hard…"

"That's not the way things work, Kenny, you know that," Kyle scolded, his glasses were now on his face, orbs shiny, but not creating any further saline. I wished to argue that point, but my emotional exhaustion at the situation won out, and I could only shrug. Stan's brain monitor spiked… and then flattened once more.

Kyle seemed to understand, but he was stubborn as well.

"So the demon couldn't tell you _anything_?" he blurted out. It made me chuckle under my breath.

Good ol' Kyle.

"Sorry… Really…" I murmured. I yawned, leaning my head on the desktop. My vision was getting a bit blurry, so I shut my eyes. Kyle's annoyed noises of frustration kept me entertained for a while. My thoughts wandered eventually, Kyle's noises disappearing and my body drifting away…

Colors and forms were dancing before my closed lids, and then slipped absent.

Sounds morphed in my ears to tunes I had never heard before.

Smells enticed me…

The feeling of something silky wrapped around me in a warm cocoon.

"_Kenny_…" a husky voice whispered. I could not tell the gender. It was too… too **beautiful** for either. "_Kenny… follow me… come here… come to me…"_

I felt soft and smooth pads lean my head back, caressing me, undressing me… I did not dare to open my eyes… I do not know why. My breathing became labored as I tried to speak, to ask permission to see.

"_No, no… be blind_,_" _their breath hit my ear in a puff of perfumed mist. My limbs felt heavy, yet my heart was lighter. My mouth opened to protest to the odd feeling, to inquire the person to make it go away, but the soft fingers probed my mouth, juices—sweet and tangy—flowed down, making my body immobile, but head spinning.

"_Aw, beautiful_…"

"S-St…" I turned my head away, moaning and whimpering. "N-No! Don't…"

"_Hush, now_," the voice hummed. "_It's alright to enjoy this_…"

I desperately tried to get my arms to budge, but nothing happened. The embrace tightened and I felt smothered as the heat grew to a broil. My throat felt coated in cottony phlegm, and wine ran down in rivets toward my bare breastbone. It was obscene; the way it trailed down coldly, making my nipples harden and my body react in goosebumps.

The husky voice laughed, and a yielding body fell over mine, taking me whole. My head flopped to the side and I realized my eyes were open as tears trailed down effortlessly—nevertheless pure blackness met my sight.

Hands… so many hands… lingering… I could not find the will to breath as I was over powered.

_**WAKE UP!**_

I was jolted as if fire scored me, startled by a familiar voice that sounded like a gunshot in my head.

"S-Stan…?"

The husky voice gasped.

_**WAKE UP **__**NOW**__**!**_

"_Stay with me, love," _the voice was gentle, but claws dug into my sides.

I screamed, hands quickly flying downwards and I whacked them away.

_**KENNY! YOU'RE IN DANG—**_

Before I noticed, my eyes were open and I could see the water-stained ceiling of Kyle's basement. The Jew was covering his mouth, holding down my sides with enormous pressure. I glanced down to see my gaping wounds. It made me blink and I put my own hands over the split skin.

It burned as I healed myself. That was nothing compared to what I felt when the jade eyes in that pale face of my friend widened.

"Since when could you…?"

"I'm sorry… I'm _so_ sorry…"

I seem to keep screwing things up… why in the world can't I stop…?

Those were my last thoughts as Kyle screamed and exhaustion took me over again.

**TBC**

**A/N:** So yeah. 'Tis almost a rushed ending, but not truly. I decided due to the emotional and moral bulk to just not even bother going over fifteen pages. I never expected it to get this substantially weighed down; I knew it would eventually, yet I was surprised how serious it had gotten so quickly.

I discovered this version of Kenny is highly ethical about death.

Look! Eric Cartman is somewhat human in this too!

And what does Butters know…?

Oh! And what in the world happened to Stan?!

All questions will be answered (possibly) in the next chapter! So keep reviewing and it will be coming soon…

Reap and Sow

BY—_**SteelAgainstIvory**_


	9. To Loveless And Be Loveless

**A/N:** LMAO! Guess what's come back on my radio? 30 Seconds from Mars—Yesterday.

**metallicanirvana**: Why thank you very much.

**Determined**: Yeah, most of my fics turn serious at one point or another. Comedy will eventually pick back up in certain spots. This one in fact has an air of… drunken emotions.

**Edly Ashward**: Man, I wish I could draw as well… Kenny is so freakin' sexy! Well, in my mind. My Kenny knows, but is really sorta indifferent to it. I dunno why though…

**Blitzdrake**: -BLUSH- Uuuuh, thanks. Characterization, I have come to learn, is my passion. Hehe, I am super glad you are enjoying it. I wish I could express my utter delight better than this… so, yay! New chapter! Please tell me what you think. I would very happy.

**Fireness**: Hahaha! My thanks. Cartman turned out really human didn't he?! That doesn't normally happen… but I wanted a more… matured version of our beloved fatass. I'm quite content with the way it worked.

**iluvkenny**: Sorry about that. I am extremely cryptic. All will be revealed in up coming chapters!

**Dollface Conlon**: Aw, thank you. I am honored by your jealousy. Tis an amazing song! I wish I could make an AMV for it…

**Hot Monkey Brain**: Oh wow –hides face- You really humble me. Thank you very much. It's wonderful to see such feedback. Lol! Really, thank you. I hope you will be pleased with my latest update.

**Spotty Zebra**: Hooray! I'm so ecstatic! Thank yous! Hehe, yes, the plot thickens quickly enough…

**YingYangWhiteTiger:** Thank you so much. It makes me warm in the heart to read reviews.

**Foosa**: REALLY?! I freakin' LOVE that author! His stories are so interesting… unfortunately; I don't have money for books. What I have read I found on my cousins bookshelf. Actually, all I read was half of one (can't remember the name though) and Wee Free Men. Hmm. Not much of a fan, am I? -.-'

**Warning:** Gay stuff. Lots of it. And random bits of … supernatural.

**Disclaimer:** Me love South Park long time! Me no own though… me sigh.

**Summary:** Loveless allusions. Some more Kutters-Bunny action (it's real cutesy… maybe). Random craziness, perhaps plottiness on both SAI and Kenny's minds. Oh, and a guest appearance by Damien near the last page or so.

**Remember:**

"Blah" – Speech

_Blah_ –Thoughts

Blah – Self Explanatory

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

CHAPTER EIGHT—To Loveless And Be Loveless

There was this brief stint back in third grade. Back when this Japanese cartoon show basically ruled my life. Then my parents began to get into it. It was seriously ridiculous I realized. However, I sort of harbored a bit of appreciation for the odd style, which is known as anime.

I'm not a big freak, but occasionally, if I happened upon something real unique, I watched it. Then randomly, I fumbled into a bookstore back in Denver while on vacation. This bookstore held comics, graphic novels they're called, with anime in them. Being extremely free minded, I picked one up and began to read. I loved it. They were so different from American comics that I couldn't help but appreciate them.

A while later, I discovered this amazing genre of these graphic novels (they're known as manga). The genre is called yaoi. Well, it's called that if there is sex involved in the story. Shonen ai is the term for the forming of a relationship. I just call it all yaoi.

I wasn't entirely opposed to the idea of gay sex—hey, I am a slut—but in this weird new genre I found, it gave me a bit of soulful peace. I wasn't alone in the world. I wasn't a freak. I could love Butters (well, back then it was merely a crush… I think) and it didn't condemn me to Hell.

Not being a Mormon did, but that's potatoes chips I don't gotta eat right now.

So from time to time, you might find me arbitrarily strolling down the manga section of Borders. It doesn't mean much. Now and again I pick up whatever. But one story I fell in love with…?

Loveless.

It's a bit of a complex story. I would explain it to you, but I would butcher it up so terribly you would just be even more confused. You see… nothing about the story I care for. Except the two main characters.

Soubi and Ritsuka.

In this fake world, Ritsuka's name is Loveless in a weird system of a fighting world. He's known as a sacrifice. Soubi is known as a fighter. They use words to battle. I would love to say only a single and have someone be chained down. But _my_ magical world doesn't work like that.

Well… The problem with this pair is Soubi isn't Loveless' fighter. He's Ritsuka's older brother's… who is dead. Wah. Sad sad, cry cry. Or is he…?

I don't like the older brother so I'll skip over that creepy plot line and get to the point.

These two cannot be together because no one wants them together. The story is their struggle to get closer, to be closer, and ultimately to love and be loved. The greatest thing of all. It makes me want to bawl.

And suddenly, as I woke up to a crisp rook with bright colors greeting me in the morning, I noted the fact I was very much like Soubi—kinda.

Butter's white, lithe arms were draped over my shoulders, clutching me to his chest. My body was wrapped in a thin sheet, keeping away the cold from the open window. Navy curtains flapped at me, making the sunlight dance across my face. Tilting my head up to get away, I saw Butter's dispersedly contorted face. His dreams were not too happy.

My brows fell down, and I had to look elsewhere.

I could not stare at my utter failure… the expression painted vibrantly in sorrow.

I did not want to keep secrets. Like Soubi. I did not desire to hold my love secret. Like Soubi. _I had no wish for you to be tormented like this, Butters_. Like Soubi let Ritsuka get hurt in every battle. It was inevitable for them…

But not for me.

I would keep him away from this misery.

I was a bringer of pain and sacrifice…

_**No, you're not!**_

I gasped suddenly, eyes popping back open. I rigidly jerked up, Butters letting go at the uncalled for movement. I covered my ears and shook my head. I was gradually losing it. I thought I heard—

"Where's Kyle?" I questioned, voice hoarse from lack of use. Butters wrung his hands together and shrugged, wiggling out from under me. I sighed. "He wants me to rest, doesn't he?"

"Y-Yeah…" his voice was hushed and the blond turned back to me with a weak smile. He began to pad to the door. "I'll go g-get us some breakfast, okay?"

"Okay. Okay…"

And it should have ended, just like that. But you know me. I just keep messing with shit.

"No! Not okay!" I burst out. I jumped from my warm and fuzzy little nest of bedding, swinging my legs over the side. My toes instantly growing chilly, they hit the caramel carpet while I visually searched for a shirt to throw over my naked chest. Butters whirled around, shielding his eyes with very red cheeks. It caused me to pause.

Strangely… it was almost as if I could feel the waves of his inexperienced desire—and embarrassment at such obvious display of it. It was so adorable! "You all right there, lovely?"

Butters squeaked while I ignored the fact my inner commentary had slipped out.

"Your face is all cherry-apple red," I pointed out, lifting off the bed almost gracefully. My long legs only needed a few undersized strides across the sinking carpet to make to the trembling figure in the middle of the room.

"F-F-Fine!" his soft voice was tinkling like bells, ringing in my ears, however it was unsteady. I chuckled (not evilly, I hope), while I brought my hands through the triangle spaces his little arms created. My left forearm brushed upwards of his sweater while the other dangled further below, fingers slipping into to his waistband and rubbing his hipbone. His gasp sent an electric liquid flowing down my spine and pooling in my stomach.

"You feel kin'a warm," I whispered in his ear, bending my upper back for I could nuzzle into his fluffy sunshine colored hair. The smell of sweet French vanilla ice cream seemed to sizzle my brain. The irony made me laugh, vibrations traveling through Butters, making him clamp his hands over his mouth as a sound tumbled out—a very pleased one. I smiled to myself. "You're evening shaking… Are you sick?"

"N-No…!" he breathed out. I shifted my weight suddenly, pressing up against him, just for fun. His reaction was entertaining—going stiff and his cheeks all aflame. I hummed to myself, thinking. My thumb smoothed rhythmically over his skin as I began to help him calm down… I let his supple body sink into mine, feeling the contact as if it righted my entire world.

I think Butters felt the same way.

I don't know how I knew, but I did.

_**Kiss him!**_ That annoying voice in the back of my head urged, sounding much too similar to Stan—still. Mentally I growled at it. It went quiet reluctantly. I let out a breath, blowing strands of gorgeous hair across the nape of his elegant neck.

"Are you lonely?" I questioned in a low tone. I didn't want to break the tranquil moment we shared—yet inside I was growing more insecure with every moment. I could be scaring him off. Nevertheless I doubted that for some reason.

"Everyone gets lonely sometimes…" he answered, laying his head on my shoulder so he could answer while looking me in the eyes. I tipped my head to the side. I was beginning to suspect I would never get tired of staring into the sky orbs. "W-Why do you ask?"

"I worry," I stated it honestly. I _was_ worried. Cartman's premonition is nearly up. I just have a couple days left before it must either be carried out or deterred. If my assumption was accurate, then it wouldn't be a water demon attack, but more of a suicide… and Butters just happened to know a demon would do the dirty work for him.

But how, was the question.

"Do you know what I am?" I asked. Butters took a breath, moist peppermint air bouncing upon my lips. I blinked immediately. I hadn't quite realized how close I was. Only a fraction more and our mouths would collide. I considered backing up, but decided against it.

"Are you gay?" he inquired, cute little bravado innocent. My mouth gaped open like a dead fish and I blinked, frozen. It took me a minute as my body almost sort of slid to the floor.

Another point for you anime otakus. Any more and I might become one of them.

"I oughta jump you…" I grumbled, my head hit the floor sadly, making a hollow sound. Wah.

"Err…" Butters shook his head, crouching down and hugging his knees while rocking on tiptoe. "S-Sorry."

"That's alright," I said, using my elbows to prop me up, "But I'm actually bi."

"So you're bi-curious like me too?!" he suddenly exclaimed. I let out an indignant sound as he hugged me solidly around the tummy. It knotted and I fought to keep my cool. I could hear that Stan voice in the back of my mind cackling like a fool.

"'Scuse me?"

"O-Oh, well my d-dad—"

From there I was told a most interesting story. Remind me to kill Cartman later.

Butters and I reclined on Kyle's bedroom floor, chatting more than anything. We weren't especially close I think, until this one night back in sixth grade. I was turning twelve you see… and I invited Butters merely because he invited me to all his stuff… and well, that's when I realized I liked him… as in _liked_ liked him.

Well, you know I am too poor to have a real birthday party and such. So I asked around for any place to exploit to goof around in. That wasn't the real dilemma I would discover later. My real trouble was getting pople to hang out with me. Sad life for me because my birthday is close to Christmas…

And that year everyone had family to see outside the state. Convenient, right?

Right.

That whole day I was waving goodbye to my classmates. I sighed as Stan's dad drove their forest green minivan far off into the distance. Kyle patted my back, offering me his basement where we could both chill and lament. Oh! The irony catches me now… Fricking Kyle's basement. Second to only Cartman's…

Said fatass wobbled his way over there—bringing the alcohol he found in his mom's safe under her bed. What he was doing rifling under that hellhole; I don't even venture to guess.

Butters had also shown up, nervously rubbing his knuckles like always, edging away from spiders and dust bunnies as careful as you please. It made me laugh… and then I swallowed a shot of whiskey. Fire seared down to my belly, making everything in there turn to ash. I didn't want to feel warm and fuzzy about anyone. I was too pissed at my station in life.

I can't quite recall all that happened that night. Just flashes of scenes—possibly my imagination, possibly not. They were bright, colorful swishes of velvet despite the dank underground room and musty hanging curtains.

I only grasp the memories of Kyle getting up close to Cartman and hissing angrily that Christmas was really a pagan festival of winter before the Roman Catholic influences. Cartman's watery eyes, adjusting to the vision of Kyle's flushed face and trembling pointer finger prodding his chest in fury, had narrowed as he spat some anti-Semitic insult out. And then Butters… oh, Butters swayed across the floor, listening to invisible music as he moved.

Like waters… churning… pliable and hypnotizing.

He entranced me, I knew that.

When you're drunk, there is no filters, no walls, nothing to stand between you and what you crave for with all your might.

I was standing—somehow, not knowing I went to him, like he called out to me, beckoned me—at his back. My hands caressed down his arms, those rough cloth band-aids I had on catching downy. The clash of baby blue flannel on orange polymer hurt my too-bright eyes. I was taking art at the time and those colors; those textures don't go together, my mind screamed at me.

I was panting, unbearably hot. So I decided right there to take my parka off.

I tore down the hood, ripping open the zipper, only ascertaining hung-over the next day it was ruined. Tipping backwards, I dropped the box shaped bottle of whatever I was drinking. After a while, it was all just liquid. The splash/crash caused the sky-orbed beauty to swirl, gazing at me expectantly.

It made me grin as I strut over, but completely hammered, I crashed into his tiny body. He had scrambled backward, hitting a few dozen stacked boxes, moaning lightly.

I said something. I know that. It was something deep, husky. A demand. Butters had nodded, and half-mast eyes slid closed. He shifted and made that noise again. I think I had asked him to moan a second time, because that act made me utterly exuberant.

My fingers shook as I trailed them over every inch of that petite face, leaning his chin upwards. My words slurred together as I tried to collect my thoughts. His eyes. That's what I wanted to gaze upon. They blinked up at me in my next recollection.

Tilting his head into my palm—clammy—his words were intangible, but almost stunned. I couldn't hear. I questioned him on it. Butter's hands eagerly threaded through my messy waves of hair.

"Amazing…"

He was talking about me. How I looked when I did not cover my face.

I desired more than anything, Butters.

Just Butters.

Sleepily, he slanted in, biting his lip. Those wide eyes implored me. Told me to make the first move. So I did. I was scared. I had never kissed a boy before. Could I? Would it hurt? Would God strike me down?

Who cared?

I kissed him. Don't remember how _exactly_, I just did… but, ahh, man!

I found it bliss.

He was soft, but different from anything before.

At twelve, I knew sex. But to try it was different. I lost my virginity the following year to a nice girl at Raisins. Her name was Stacy. Those lips that did things to me I can't say, they were painted like the brightest ruby. Butters… his lips were pale pink… sorta like unripe raspberries. They tasted like lip balm; flavor cotton candy.

The boy, so small compared to me even now, trembled so fiercely I started slow. I built it up, moving my mouth over his in cadenced little thrusts. I sucked on his bottom lip, pulling him into me entirely, folding around him as if I had wings.

My breath was a harsh, nostrils flaring, catching a smell of something—alcohol most likely. I just kept devouring him. Neat clipped nails dug past my wife beater and leaving marks I would caress the next night while I was confused. Then I kind of black out for a second. I think. I can't summon up too much but the slump of weight drifting down my chest.

I blink, mind blank and emotions drained, at that evil ceiling with no stains just yet. Butters has wrapped about my midriff. He takes shallow gulps of air, eyes not bothering to stay open.

I cried as I fell asleep.

I had been complete a few moments before. Then I was nothing. I had realized I could still know the vague touch of Butters quivering lips on mine. The other though? He would know nothing… the damn lightweight.

History repeats itself years later.

Butters is in my lap, joyfully recounting something while I listen, stroking his tuft of blondness. It was silky, tickling my pads almost. I chortle, winding a strand around my pinky. My arm is stuck under my neck and I am drawing designs in the stucco roof with my eyeballs. The ground creaks and groans in the cold as my love rolls over, lifting up my shirt and examining for injuries again.

I cross my legs, reminding him I heal too fast for any wounds to remain. Butters childishly sticks out his tongue, telling me he was paranoid about accidentally smarting me by lounging across me like a lazy hobo. I comment he was the most adorable hobo I had ever known. He throws me a slight frown before lying back down, yawning at me in response. I have to laugh again.

Only I know what happened. But that's okay… because if Stan's right, it doesn't matter. Butters may like me anyway.

"We haven't done this in a while, have we?" Butters asked. I glance down; it's an auto reaction.

"What?"

"We haven't talked in some time…" he drifted off. Those wide eyes were skirls of unreadable emotions. I didn't bother to figure it all out since Butters had no idea himself what he was feeling. Don't ask me how I know 'cause I am not sure why either.

"I've been real busy these days," I try to avoid the subject matter a bit, but not be defensive. I was concerned if I rejected him, in any small way, his loneliness might swallow him to oblivion. "I have a job, ya know?"

"Really?" he questioned, a slight smile lighting his cherubic face. "What?"

"I'm a bounty hunter!" I exclaimed, flipping onto him and wagging my eyebrows like a fool. Butters squeaked, grabbing onto my shoulders, gasping at the warmth of my skin and flexing, sturdy muscles. His eyes glimpsed at anywhere but me.

"B-But that's so—so dangerous!" he objected. I shook my head, letting my shocks of gold hair drape over my eyes.

"I'm just joshin' ya," I confessed. Butters sighed (part relieved, part miffed at my blatant lie) and moved my hair, fingers barely grazing my forehead. I did my best not to purr and knead my hands into his waist as I held him in my lap. "I'm really just someone who goes out into the field to look for stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Eh, like…" I struggled to think of something to explain (reasonably), "Stuff."

Oh yeah. I'm smooth.

"Oh… okay," he accepted. I smirked.

Butters. You. Are. Too. _Cute_!

Around that time, Ike had knocked on the door. Ike didn't know much, but he knew enough. He was—after all—a genius. He calmly informed us that Butters parents were outside, waiting for him to get his perky butt in the car. The modest blond let out a breath, pouting. Ike fluoresced away and I didn't stop him. However, I did launch up and capture that elfin hand trailing behind the tottering body.

Butters hesitated, not quite turning back, but not exactly rushing to the door either.

"Be with me tomorrow?" I offered. I could see those cheeks dust a faint rose and those lips turn up shyly.

"Y-Yeah…"

"Alright," I said, licking my lips afterwards. I let my grip relax and Butters swiveled back to the door, practically forcing himself to open it. "See you tomorrow, Butters."

"Uh-huh," he choked out, ducking his head and slapping his hands on his heated features. "S-See ya… Kenny."

My expression must have been pure happiness because I could feel my heart nearly burst at the breathless way my name was sung from that gorgeous mouth. He had just about flown out the door, down the hall, and towards the outside. I leapt up on Kyle's bed, secretly peeking out to watch that Volvo drive away and down the slush filled street. I covered my mouth as a hysterical sound fell out.

_**What I tell ya?**_

Shuddup, I got it…

I shook my head and flopped back on the spongy as heck bed. I bounced up, letting myself go lax. Things couldn't get any better!

"Kenny."

**FUUUUUCK.**

"Damien! What the hell!" I shouted, pounding my fist on the pillow I was cuddling into. I sprang up, glaring at the dark corner of the room by the open door. From the shadows emerged the Spawn of Satan in the ghostly flesh.

"What the hell indeed," he mused. His orbs then grew steely. Swirling red the color of fresh spilled blood. "Close the door." The tall figure loomed in my general direction, causing my spine to shiver. "Now."

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, rising like a zombie from my spot of paradise as of two point eleven seconds ago. Now I felt like hitting something. I marched over and slammed the door. Dimly, Ike could be heard shouting something either irritated or anxious from down the short hallway. I, ignoring it all together, crossed my arms and rested my upper back on the plywood door.

"Nice to see you're all healed," Damien stated. I fisted my hands, focusing my eyes on the sinking sun I could see from under the blinds that needed a good peacock feather duster.

"Uh-huh, well, I didn't have a choice," my explanation tasted acrid.

"I know you didn't want anyone else to find out…" he amended, plopping on the mattress. It never even stirred. As if it was stone. "I'm sorr—"

"No. You're not," I shook my head, releasing that ball of intension in my stomach. "But that doesn't matter. What are you here for?" I pushed off the door using my socked feet. Huh. Didn't even notice they were the polka dot ones I took from Butters. I wonder if he did? Ha. Yeah, prolly not...

Err, but, pressing onward!

Damien's lips curled into his pearly, pointy teeth, as if he was seriously contemplating chowin' down on his own words. It gave me a bad vibe that made my throat contract. It would take definitely a complete minute for him to open his mouth. When he did, his words were whispery, urgent.

"I took inventory," a gulp, "Of the hourglasses. Stan's is perfectly safe."

"G-Good, I'll tell K-Kyle," I stammered, my shoulders falling as I took in air. I must have been holding it out until I could be sure it was safe. Then Damien shook his head, hanging limply... the curls seemed dead with no hope. Oh no… there _can't_ be more.

"I can't find yours, Kenny."

_**I told you—you're in danger, Kenny.**_

Oh, because I couldn't figure that out on my own!

**TBC…**

**A/N:** If you haven't figured it out by now, I _**love**_ cliffhangers.

Do you? XD

So I am bored. Yay. Hope you have enjoyed, I know I have… Any questions? I'll Answer them in the next chapter, which is mostly finished. My internet has been down… oh and then we got the new expansion of WoW… -shakes head sadly-

Welp. Until next time…

_**SteelAgainstIvory's**_: Reap and Sow Chapter Eight End!


	10. The Code of Hammurabi As Seen

**A/N:**PLEASE READ THIS UPDATE, PLEASE

For some reason, our beloved has canceled out the Italic and Bold print I used for Stan's spirit… voice… thingy. Really sorry about that. To make this chapter less confusing, I am just going to put his name at the beginning of his speech. Gah… retarded I know, but I dunno went wrong. You have my utmost apology dear readers!

I believe it is because some lines I wrote and then bold and italized whereas others I put the bold and italics up first and then wrote out his lines. Yet, I don't remember which lines those were. However I could be wrong. It could just be a weird design glitch on the uploaders parts.

I only noticed this after skimming my chapter. Thanks to **thequillofdestiny **for mentioning the confusion—otherwise I might not have noticed so soon. Again, I am dreadfully sorry for my inconsistent writing styles. The next chapter will also have this design, just in case. –sighs-

**As of November 28, 2008**

This is the second update. Apparently, also does not like to space my frickin' conversations between Stan and Kenny. I. Am. Pissed. As. Hell.

After I fixed one error… I now have to fix another. As a perfectionist—this is my idea of hell.

But thank you, Flacks, for telling me. At least in this hell I can fix this fricking thing…

**thequillofdestiny**: Oh, lol! Thank you so much. Haha, yeah, Kenny and I go on weird tangents. I'm glad that they somehow relate to you. Smurfs… oh, I miss that cartoon…

**loozje**: Well, my friend, wait no more!

**Blitzdrake**: -blushing profusely- Thank you very much. I'm ecstatic you're liking my story. Hehehe! You make my day every time I read a comment from you!

**Bethany C. MacKenzie**: Oh, well, thank you very much. Really, I just do my best. Love ze cliffhangers! XD

**Hot Monkey Brain**: God I freakin' love your user name! –twitch- I turn into a tweeker and shout it out each time I see it. Lmao… Oh… _boy_… I have issues. Well! Anyways, thank you, thank you. All these questions might be answered… sometime! Haha! Please enjoy this next chapter.

**DollfaceConlon**: Thanks so much! I anticipate to keep producing wonderful chappies for you. This one is extremely interesting (I believe)… Hehe! Hope you lieks it!

**Warning:** Gay stuff. Lots of it. And random bits of … supernatural.

**Disclaimer:** Me love South Park long time! Me no own though… me sigh.

**Summary:** Kenny freaks out big time. You learn the difference between astroprojection and out of body experiences and how Stan is involved. Magic is introduced to the plot. Cartman is sort of a heroic figure. Kenny is definitely a wounded hero, so love him dammit. Oh, and the evilness increases! Besides that, it's really more of a bridged chapter.

**Remember:**

"Blah" – Speech

_Blah_ –Thoughts

Blah – Self Explanatory

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

CHAPTER NINE—Code of Hammurabi As Seen

I sat shaking for a least an hour. My knuckles had strands of piss yellow hair coiled in the tiny cracks of my skin from when I rocked back and forth in the fetal position. The sparkling white toilet bowl was burned into the back of my eyeballs. I could see it when I closed my lids.

Damien—for being the antichrist bastard that he is—was reprehensibly kind. He promised to find my hourglass, claiming it was the number one priority in Hell. God was notified as well. Then, warning me to stay alert, he left to give me some space. At first I just couldn't wrap my brain around what the guy said…

Then I got terrified.

No one knows what happens if hourglasses become smashed.

Mine is missing. Damien can't find it. Death can't find it. So it had to be taken, but _**why**_ was it taken?!

So I got mad.

My wrists split open when I punched my way through the medicine cabinet in Kyle's bathroom. The mirror was now broken, pieces of glass embedded in my bones and gushing bloods; but I had long ago learned to ignore that. Pills from all sorts of orange bottles with child-lock caps clinked down the shiny sink and that's all I could register. I had sighed, feeling brine collect on the edge of my lashes. Desperation fuels stupidity.

Desperation wanted me to swallow all those pills here and now. Get it over with.

I just grabbed a bunch of them and blasted the sink. The knobs twisted effortlessly. I cupped my hands and scooped the icy water up into my cotton dry mouth. Copper, water, and fake cherry flavored aspirin coated my tongue. I got possibly seven handfuls of over-the-counter medicine in me until I noticed my fringe vision growing darker. I glanced down at my hands, not sure where they were anymore, when I saw that the sign marring my flesh was fucking _glowing_.

I realized I was dying for the last time. Broken pieces of mirror revealed glimpses of my face flushing and pupils dilating. I leapt for the toilet and jammed my fingers down my throat. I spewed up everything in my stomach. Just to be sure, I kept inducing my gag reflex until there was no bile left. As soon as blood poured freely, staining the porcelain candy cane pink, I turned away. I crawled over to the tub and curled in it.

_**(Stan) You gotta calm down Kenny… **_

"Shut up Stan," I grumbled, rubbing my shivering arms, "You're in a fucking coma."

_**(Stan) Fuck you man; I'm only trying to help.**_

It was said almost fondly, ringing in my ears. I laughed, squeezing my eyes closed. "God, I'm going insane…" That baritone voice made a snort and I ignored it.

I remember reading somewhere that acceptance was the final stage in grief. Not that I was in grief (more like mortal danger), but I was slowly getting over the fact the bad guy had my life-line literally in the palm of his grimy hands. Asshole. There was nothing I could do, short of finding this invisible jerk and ripping the damn hourglass from the cold dead fingers.

Shit.

"Kenny…" a soft, choked noise. I tensed almost, but recognized the voice. Whatever—or whoever—was in my head seemed to become relieved.

I swiveled my head upward, strands of damp hair clouding my line of sight. The redheaded genius was leaning against the door—the lock was scratched up and I noted the screwdriver that fell to the carpeted floor with a dull thud. Wow... Must have locked the bathroom without knowing so.

Why did **that** startle me more than not hearing Kyle try to break into his own crapper?

"I hear you're boy-toy in my head…"

…

"Jeezy, you're fucking freaky Kenny," Kyle said, well more of grunted really, as he was reading the brain scan monitors. We had moved down in the basement where all the Medicare junk was set up. Immediately the bastard went to work looking at my brain. He hooked me up to the same machine he placed Stan on.

_**(Stan) You ought to tell him you're suicidal too.**_

The monitor had two more spikes, both in different regions of my brain or… well, hell. I can't read those damn squibbly lines (in red for me, blue for Stan—possibly, that's how I categorized it anyway). However, the Jew could, and his eyes widened as he spun his face away from the papers and toward my tired ass self. "What did he say?"

"That your ass looks fabulous in those jeans," I lied deadpan while rubbing at my right eye. The plugs for the monitor were suction-cupped to my head and moved as the forehead did. It felt really odd. Like I had a squid strapped to my brain. My hair was tickling the back of my neck and I kept having to brush it aside 'cause it irritated me.

_**(Stan) Jesus HP Christ! Stop that! **_

_Hey, I'm doing you a favor bucko!_

"Funny Kenny…" Kyle said to my prior comment, averting his eyes and looking at the monitor again. I shrugged, wanting to yank off the damned wires, but I couldn't until the redhead gave the okay. I blinked suddenly as my paranormal instinct kicked up. Or well, Stan's did I think, because next thing I know, I can just tell—actually more like feel—Kyle's embarrassment and anxiety and curiosity and…_!_

"Kenny, tell me again why you're squeezing my—"

"GAAAAAAAAAAH!" I shout and immediately let go of Kyle's round behind. I shake my hand rapidly, seeing the tattoo almost blend in with my skin tone; a trick of the eyes and mind is all. "Itburnsitburnsitburnsitburnsandburnsnandbuuuuuuuuuuuuurns!"

Kyle quickly struck me across the face and one of the cups popped off my head and dangled in front of my eyeballs as it was attached to the other thingy on my forehead (sorry, sorry, but I have no clue what medical equipment is called, all I know is sex… er, and how to come back to life of course, haha!).

"Shut up asshole! My butt is fine as hell and you had better bow down to its grace!"

"But _I _didn't do it! I swear, it was _Stan_!" I cried, cradling my hand to my chest protectively, "Get him out of me! Hurry before I look like that Linda Blair chick from the Exorcist!"

_**(Stan) KENNY!! **_

_WHAT?! IT'S TRUE!_

_**(Stan) YEAH, BUT DON'T TELL HIM THAT! **_

"I said hurry Kyle! He's taking controooooool!" I bemoaned. Kyle put his head in his hands and sighed as I burst into hysterics.

_**(Stan) You are **_so_** uncool, Kenny.**_

I know…

So it hadn't taken too long for me to calm down. Kyle ripped off the damn sensors and now I have big red circles all over my face and head. I rubbed at them until they turned magenta. Well, it was certainly better than vivid burgundy at the moment.

"Astroprojection? Like the thing Damien does to get up here?" I echoed stupidly. Kyle shook his head and leaned back in that swivel chair (he was explaining to me how Stan might have made his way into my head). He was clicking away all the new info he found from my brain scans. Those emerald orbs fluttered up to me and Stan's interest was peaked instantly. I groaned inwardly but made no outward show of it just for the sake of not repeating the performance from earlier.

"Not really, that's a mental concept," the genius explained. I crossed my arms.

"I can't tell the damn difference."

"Well… astroprojection is your mental splitting of the sense of self. It can be seen and heard, perhaps even felt if you're _that_ good. Basically like a spiritual clone you can control via your mind. Stan has just had an out of body experience. His soul left his body because of a near death situation," Kyle turned his screen toward me and gave me a visual of a cartoon. It was an old timey one yet again—maybe 1800—drawing of a man walking around a bed with himself clearly lying sickly under the covers. The Hebrew drew in the laptop and went back to work.

"Oh…" I said it because I felt like it was my turn to speak, but I had no clue what to say.

_**(Stan) Okay, great. Must be because I felt the death around me… What happens now that I'm out of my own body?**_

"So, what does this… disembodiment mean for your fuck bunny?" I asked and as an after thought I added, "Stan's point, not mine."

Kyle didn't twitch at my commentary, he just put up emotional shields so Stan wouldn't figure out how he was feeling, and thus, I would feel it. Wonderful. I'm a conduit for the empath.

"He either returns to his body or…" Kyle faded off; the clacking paused as his finger hovered over the keyboard.

_**(Stan) Shit, don't tell me...**_

The computer screen twisted to me once more. A clipart picture of a tombstone with RIP in bold and basic colors leered up at me. Stan groaned from inside my head, probably huddling inside himself. Maybe he should have asked not to have it shown either?

A light bulb (metaphorically of course) went off in my head and I jumped down from the squishy cot Kyle had forced me to sit on. "Hey, do you know why Stan chose me to hang out in?"

"Huh?" Kyle blinked, head snapping to me sharply.

_**(Stan) I didn't chose you…**_

Then why the hell are you in my fricking head?!

(Stan) I thought I was waking up, there was a bright light I was moving towards and—

Aw, that cheesy plot device used in death scenes and religious movies???

_**(Stan) No jerkward! Augh! I dunno what the hell it was! All I know is I'm in class, being bored as heck, when it feels like I'm being ripped apart from the inside out… and I can just **_feel_** the screaming from those dying—or worse—around me. I panicked. I wanted to get away from it. My power wouldn't shut off. So I ran… or, I thought I did… Now that I can recall, it seemed as if I was just flying.**_

_Having no body can certainly do that to you._

_**(Stan) I just sort of… kept going. I lost track of time… I just knew though, that something was wrong. I could feel that too. Negative intentions toward YOU. So I tried to find you. I did. When you killed that imp. I rushed to keep you from killing it, thinking I could push you out of the way, but I just sort of… merged into you. Must have been during that shock you had… I remember your eyes. Wide and full of tears. I could feel your sympathy for what you had done… and then… the white light thing happened.**_

Crap…

"KENNY!" Kyle slammed his hands together on the side of my face harshly, making those pink circles burn red all over again, but it shot me from whatever trance I was in. "You were just talking to Stan, right?"

"Yeah. He just told me a bunch of…" I hesitated. There was an inky feeling in the pit of my stomach. I clutched the fabric of my shirt instinctively, waiting out a tension that seeped into me from nowhere.

It grew more concentrated, like someone pushing out waves of velvet and coating the room in a sticky substance—but there was nothing. Just the movement of the wind. Cold. Deadly. The fuck _**is**_ this…?

"Kenny…?" Kyle's voice sounded isolated and heavy. As if he was having trouble forcing my name into the air.

"I think someone is watching us…" I furrowed my brows.

Have you had this feeling before Stan?

My body shuddered as Stan did.

_**(Stan) No… at least… nothing this… noxious.**_

What is it?

(Stan) I don't know… why would someone—

Could this be who I think it is?

I gasped because Stan did. Kyle flinched, waiting for me to finish whatever I was doing.

(Stan) The Lover?

Who else would do this?

(Stan) But why worry over you, Kenny? Why would he watch you?

Why would he put a curse on me?

(Stan) C'mon, we don't know its him!

_I know but… the hourglasses, the imp, the curse! If it's not the Lover then who else would want to cause such chaos?! I… I don't know what else to think…_

_**(Stan) Kenny… I know you're worried but…**_

_How is it only __**I **__seem to know Armageddon is pounding on our door?! _

Kyle shook his head, and my eyesight dimmed a bit. My friend swayed and rested his hand on the top of the cherry desk he was using. It was a bit harder to breath and for some reason it seemed as if my ears were ringing.

"K-Kyle… what is this…?" I questioned. My phone blared loudly from my pocket. I glanced down. In my pocket of my dingy jeans I could see the soft blue glow of my cell. I reached down indolently and fumbled to release it from inside the tight cloth. I just watched the surface of the phone for a second, the name not coming to mind at all.

(Stan) SNAP OUT OF IT!

I practically dropped my phone as Stan's powers folded over me vehemently. He blocked a brunt of the force pushing down on me. Kyle's eyes became jaded as he tried to gaze about the room. Warily I watched him, glancing down at the phone as it suddenly stopped ringing.

(Stan) This is witchcraft!

_Witchcraft? Who is using magic against us? And what for? We don't worry about the wiccans._

(_**Stan) No, idiot! Not these new feminist bitches running around naked under the moon—I'm talking real live magic used to summon up bad shit man! Remember that asshole trying to call up that snake lady?**_

_Oh! Oh! Lamia! Yeah, I remember that one. Dude was fucked up._

_**(Stan) But he did find an old text. He wasn't just crazy.**_

_He wanted her to give him the gift of second sight, yeah, I know. What about it?_

(Stan) This magic is on par with Lamia's!

_WHAT?! B-B-But!_

My phone was almost shrill now and I could feel the air around me tighten like a vice. Kyle's asthma inhaler clattered to the ground and I froze to see him clawing at his throat. I dove to the floor and scooped it up. Shoving the tip in his chapped mouth, I squeezed the top down, helping him bring air back to his sprained lungs. The phone that I had accidentally dropped on it's side got jarred enough to answer the call. I could hear a voice screaming from the top of its lungs at me:

"GO TO THE DAMN CHURCH!"

That was Cartman's voice. Damn if I wasn't so freakin' happy to hear his voice! Must have had a vision… Probably in the church too… but—_oh_!

Sanctuary! Right! Magic and hollowed ground doesn't mix!

I tugged Kyle up and began shoving him toward the door. I left my phone, not caring at all. The fact was I was completely terrified. Who ever was… attacking I guess… they weren't taking no for an answer.

_This has never happened before…! WAAAAAAAAAAAH! I'm just supposed to send these bastards back to hell!_

Kyle was sluggish, and the whole scatter-brained attempt to get to the church was really just me jogging through the damp and eerie streets dragging my pal behind me. The frosty wind cracked and seemed to laugh at me. I was shaking from the temperature and rattled nerves.

Owls hooted at me from the branches, eyes glowing yellow like moons. A few cars trucked by, beams from headlights dazing me. I kept plowing on. My teeth grit angrily and I could feel my molars being ground down. Kyle kept tripping over his own feet and into my back. Growling, I eventually just threw him over my shoulder and broke out into a run.

I don't remember exactly where I heard it before, but you should know; never—ever, never, ever, ever!—run from anything magical, whether it be good _or_ bad. It rates right up there with never eat anything from a faerie realm.

Really bad shit happens.

Like, super bad shit.

As soon as I hauled ass, the owls leapt from the branches, swooping down at me in a flurry of rusty beaks and blood-brown feathers. I placed my hands over Kyle's face and hoped to the lord that his clothes were thick enough so he couldn't feel anything. Screeches penetrated the air; making my feet grow absurdly hot. Fuck, I wanted out!

I gasped because abruptly, crimson reflective eyes glowered at me a few centimeters from my face. Trust it to me to just focus on running instead of **where** I'm going. I glared back and paused, ignoring as Kyle twitched, tiny rivulets of blood soaking into my shirt collar. A couple more of the rats-with-wings rammed into my body, causing me to grunt, but I held my ground stubbornly.

"Move!" I demanded, tattooed hand clenching. It felt like it was a brand—melting into my own skin. The wind around me whipped my hair across my face. I didn't break eye contact with whatever was floating before me. I didn't actually see it… just the eyes…

I could see my frightened sea orbs widened as I recognized my face in those dreadful things.

It… _wanted_ me.

I cried out as something lunged forward, talons reached out toward me. I stumbled, batting to get away and keep the drugged genius still on my shoulder. Of course it couldn't work.

A claw, soft and pale, seemed to place itself over my left eye… the black tipped nails created jagged lines over my brow. I sucked in a breath of air at the same time the muscles tensed in the hand. Then they dug themselves in my eye socket. A swift yank was all it took my left eye to loose its vision. Pain thudded like molasses in my veins; my mind couldn't seem to understand why I couldn't see.

I could feel my other eye's pupil dilate. A cherry forked tongue licked at my absent eyeball. Talons dangled the blue orb by the muscles and tendons; it swung in the bursts of little cyclones around us. Red eyes slid toward me, and that tongue was sucked back inside a pair of luscious lips.

"Ah ah! You can't see me yet…" a melodious voiced tsked from inside the tantalizing mouth. Immediately, I swathed my empty socket with my free hand, like that could somehow save my already begotten eye.

"Y-You…!" I accused. My sides ached just at the thought of that nightmare from the before.

"Me indeed, Kenneth darling."

Faster than lightning, I could feel that sinful palm resting on my other eyeball.

"_**No**_—!" I screamed, but it was too late. "_**ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH**_!"

Darkness was my only vision. Just as before.

(Stan) You don't need them! Run!

_**(Stan) Run!**_

_**(Stan) Run!**_

_**(Stan) RUN!**_

I don't know how I did; I just did. I bounded up, and barreled through the shrieking birds. The gorgeous figure chuckled, not following, but the laughter clung to my skin like oil. I was huffing as Stan's reverent tone echoed in my head. I could hear the moans from Kyle on my shoulder, taste the condensation in the air, smell my sweat dripping off me, and feel the cement under my house slippers shift and dip and change to the road.

You lose the meaning of time when you are perpetually stuck in shadows.

I didn't dare count my footsteps or all the turns my spirit dwelling friend demanded of me. My lungs strained, but I just kept going. Fermentation in my legs bubbled up into me and I felt like I was wading through clouds. The thick smell of copper hurt me deeply as the substantial amount of blood started to freeze to my face.

I was in bad shape.

(Stan) Hurry, the church is just a few paces in front of you! Get ready!

I burst forward, head down as I charged, arms wildly striking out in the air.

(Stan) Start jumping up the steps!

The steps, if I could summon up a correct memory, were not that many and not too big, but it took all my strength to hurdle forward and raise my feet. My toes barely scraped the entranced of the threshold. My hand batted at one of the closed doors, jerking most of my body to the side.

Soon, I was spinning. I crowded in; bringing Kyle into my front and making sure I could shield him from any harm. I hit the floor and rolled, yelping as I could feel myself skimming the wooden floorboards and finally smacking into the pews, knocking a few of them over from the sounds of splintering wood and heavy reverberating thunks. Something crashed on top of me and I hid the Jewish boy in my arms.

He was coughing into my shirt, nails somehow finding all the holes in it and digging into my skin, while he groaned. I couldn't tell if he was all right at all. Faintly, I could hear footsteps. I maneuvered the pews off on me, but still lingered over Kyle's body just in case.

"H-Hey…"

No answer. I couldn't see and Stan's voice was hushed. I tossed my head back. Golden hair messily flying in tendrils all around my face. "ERIC!" I called and the steps increased in rhythm. I fell back, using something blocky to support my fatigued body from not passing over.

Then… the noises all round me halted instantly. A gasp was the only sign of life.

"P-Please… help me…" was all I could murmur.

As I said previous, when you're blind you don't really know how much time has passed. It's endless and dragging… or fleeting and not there are all. You just _cannot_ tell. Absently, I wondered if it was possible for me to cry.

But… well, all I know was that I was dragged somewhere to lie down. I stared without eyes at what I thought was probably the ceiling. My face was scrubbed and pretty soon all the congealed bodily fluids were off my face. Someone tucked in a breath of air but wouldn't discharge it. I closed my lids and then they scooted their chair back and left the room quickly.

(Stan) It stained your cheeks for now, Ken. You look like you're crying blood.

_Who the _hell_ was that Stan?_

_**(Stan) I don't know… and they want it to stay that way.**_

I agreed with that statement in full. Fuck. We are in way over our heads. What the fuck can I do?! I sighed, trying to release my panic. It didn't work too well, but I had to have a clear head to think.

Oh Jesus! Like that could help any. I have absolutely _no idea_ what is going on…

I must have slipped off into dreamland because the next thing I know, someone's calloused hands are rousing me awake by haphazardly shaking my shoulder. My lids spontaneously open, but nothing came to my eyes, making me remember I did not have them anymore.

Crap! I just can't use up all my power trying to heal myself. It's gonna take a couple of days to get it back up to filled. I'm wasting all my spiritual energy up!

_**(Stan) You can always borrow some of mine.**_

_Thanks but no thanks, it takes a lot out of you._

_**(Stan) Offer's still there.**_

My attention was launched back to whomever it was squeaking out in terror. My head bobbed downward, but still rotated in whatever direction the sound was coming from.

"Jesus…! Cartman was right," that tenor voice rang out. Kyle.

"You alright?" I croaked.

"Peachy. A couple of scratches and a bit tired, but I'm a whole lot better than you," he whispered. I scoffed and rolled my lower half off what I am assuming in a cot. My feet uncertainly tapped on the ground.

"I'm blind," I said with an irate undertone. I wrapped my arms over my torso, discovering, once more, I have no shirt on. Why does that keep happening? "I ain't deaf. Don't get all shy on me know. I'll just have Stan tell me how you're feeling."

"He's still in there?"

"Yeah…"

A ragged sigh escaped Kyle and then the cot suddenly shifted to the side. Kyle must have sat down next to me.

"What happened last night?" he questioned. I shrugged, but mentally noted it must be morning now by the way Kyle was speaking.

"I think we just met who is behind everything…" I answered.

"What does that mean?" Kyle asked. I turned on instinct toward him. I got the vibes I shouldn't have done that as the weight from the bed lightened. I growled to myself as my fist curled into the sheets of what I was sitting on. "Don't try to stare at me."

"I didn't mean to ass! I did it because it's an automatic reaction!" I shouted and stood swiftly, "If you don't like it, _don't_ stare at me!"

Kyle backed up—it was like for a second I could see it clearly, his back hitting a mahogany door with a startled look on that pale face, but then the scene disappeared entirely. It took a second from me to realize I had initially **caused** that reaction. My hand flew up to my mouth as if I wasn't sure why I was angry.

_**(Stan) Kenny! Did you just see—**_

I pivoted on my heel and slammed my hands down on the uncomfortable cloth. My fists bundled into the rough material. I pulled it apart, hearing a satisfying rip. **Rage**. Why was I feeling like this…?

"Where you're eyes should be… I saw… red orbs…" Kyle's voice held disbelief. I wanted to turn my head back to him, but I stopped myself a few inches short. My fingers dug into the strips of what I hoped was a bed spread. I shut my lids tightly. I was so _stupid_.

"Red orbs? Fuck…" I was talking to myself.

_I don't think who ever visited us last night just wanted to make sure I wouldn't know who they were…_

_**(Stan) What do you think they wanted then?**_

_I know they desired me… to control me maybe. Ever heard the phrase, "The eyes are the windows to the soul?"_

_**(Stan) You don't think…?**_

_I do. How do you think you got in?_

Stan was silent. I smirked, but it was overwrought in dejectedness. I seized a long strand of the cloth in my hand. I folded it to a thick rectangle shape as well as I could without sight. I brought it up to my face slowly and tied it over my eyeless sockets.

"The Lover is trying to control me, Kyle," I informed him gravely. "I saw whoever it was. It stole my eyes… Like in my dream."

"What?! But, Kenny… why?" his voice grew softer and I could feel those jade eyes inspecting me.

I gazed right at him for a second and then stalked out, going on nothing but faith.

"I don't know, but find out."

Under no circumstances was I going to be a damned puppet! Especially not when I had plans with Butters.

**TBC…**

**A/N:** Fun, yes?

Yeah. I keep mutilating Kenny. Sorry. I did warn people though, did I not? Anyways…

No Bunny action really, but we'll get to it. More will be explained in the next chapter. I have huge plot points coming up soon, so read carefully…


	11. Not All That Is Gold Glitters

**A/N: ** A musical description of the making of chapter ten… First song, "Precious" by Depeche Mode. Second stages are various creations of Within Temptation. Third bits are LOTR soundtrack songs sung in Sindarin, or by Annie Lennox and Enya. Fourth inspiration is "Ghost of You" recorded by My Chemical Romance. The fifth tuneful influence is "Join Me In Death" by HIM. Number six on the chart—Green Day's "When September Ends". The last one is all Linkin Park's "What I've Done".

**loozje:** Wow. Thank you for your delightful compliment. =D

**Hot Monkey Brian:** Lol, my nickname with a couple of my friends is Tweek (I loves coffee sooo much). Anyway, thank you thank you. Glad you enjoyed. I work really hard to make sure my stories flow right. Its wonderful to know it did!

**thequillofdestiny:** You rock. Thanks so much for mention any confusion. I'm surprised you understood it so well! Sighs. has been evil to my bold and italics lately… Anyways, thank you very muchos!

**Flacks:** Again, I must thank you. I don't know what This site has been doing to my chapters! I nearly cried. So, please, if this chappy is screwed up too, let me know and I shall fix it again! Thank you a thousand times over!!

**Spotty Zebra**: Well, thanks a lot! I enjoy Style so much… Ahhh, thank you! Happy to know you're happy!

**CupcakeFairy:** Hahaha! Thank you! Yup, I am kind of… well, I got a complicated mind. Hope you enjoy this next chappy!

**Warning:** Gay stuff. Lots of it. And random bits of … supernatural.

**Disclaimer:** Me love South Park long time! Me no own though… me sigh.

**Summary: **So Kenny needs to think. Think he sorta does. But, surprise, surprise, here comes Butters. They share some cute moments together. Then Pip pops up outta nowhere. We all discover that everything was horribly, horribly miscalculated.

**Remember:**

"Blah" – Speech

_Blah_ –Thoughts

Blah – Self Explanatory

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………**.**

CHAPTER TEN—Not All That Is Gold Glitters

Most people describe a morning as crisp. I describe it as biting.

I'm an idiot, I know. Going outside in a snowy mountain town with no shirt is a completely ridiculous thing and I deserve it if my nipples fall off, but I needed out of that place. I desperately required alone time to think about my situation. Stan was respectful and quiet, but I could feel his presence guiding me to my spot I always sat at when I had to think. That spot was Stark's Pond.

Okay! So!

…

Yeah. I got nothing.

_**(Stan) Try thinking from the beginning.**_

_Well, good enough… thank you._

_**(Stan) Eh, no prob.**_

Well let's see. My hourglass is stolen. For what purpose…? Uhhh… what's important about said hourglass…? It's **mine** probably. But let's over look that for now. Hourglass… filled with sands of life! But what would a demon want with sands of life? That's solely a human principal…

Could the demon want to be human?

_**(Stan) Empath says no.**_

Great. That led me nowhere. Well… if it's not for the sands… maybe it _is_ because it's mine. What's special about mine? Oh. Yeah. The fact that it is endless. Frick. Okay. Then, what does that mean for our demonic buddy?

Come to think of it… what does that mean for **me**?

Shoot. Why _**is**_ mine special anyways? Ya know, God never explained that to me… neither did Satan. I wonder why I never brought it up in the first place? More than likely because it, on no account, mattered before. I guess what they say about blondes are true. We are some dumb mothafuckers.

So, skip that. If I don't know why the hourglass is the issue, I certainly can't speculate the meaning of its disappearance.

My slippers crunched the snowy bank of the damn pond. The icy air was rolling across my flesh and I felt the prickle of my hairs rise on end. I crossed my arms, kneading my fingers into my muscles to create heat. I'm sure each puff of breath made little silver clouds rise toward the sky and spread out like angel wings.

It was calm and I was thankful. Only the creak of breaking water and whispering trees were my companion. I was singing without realizing it. "_Precious and fragile things need special handling_…"

I stopped, shaking my head. Rubbing at my arms I tried to go back to figuring out this whole mess that was thrust on me. My mind had hit a blank though. I had no clue where to begin. The Lover—and if that _thing_ yesterday wasn't, then I didn't know what else to think of it as—was unlike anything I had ever encountered before.

"_If God has a master plan…"_ I hummed, tilting my head back and ignoring my constricted heart.

"_Kenny_!"

My name, shouted from so far away, startled me. I swiveled my head around, but halted that action as I realized it was futile; I wouldn't be able to see where that person was anyway. The sound of sloshing rubber boots started from behind me, and a slight puffing came with it.

_**(Stan) It's Butters.**_

_Seriously?!_

"K-Kenny!" he accosted and wrapped his arms over my right side. In that instant warmth assaulted me and induced a series of tremendous shivers. Butters backed up, shouting out something in alarm. "Why aren't you—?!" The cute little guy cut himself off and his heat receded. "Sorry, it doesn't matter why…" and then a coat, overly large and lined with downy fur, was thrown over my shaking torso. It was toasty and hugged me tight.

"D-Don't do that!" my teeth chattered as I tried to berate him and take off the coat, but mitten-covered hands wrapped over my chilled digits. I hadn't even noticed they had gone numb.

"Don't be silly," was what that sweet voice whispered to me. I won't let him know that is what caused the next quiver and not the flakes drifting down about us. "It's snowing and you are under clothed…"

"Won't y-you get cold…?" I asked unsure. I'm assuming he shook his head because I could smell a wonderful French vanilla ice-cream cone shampoo wafting up once more. I believe that is when he lifted his eyes to meet mine for the first time. Suddenly, I felt that cotton fabric of his purple mittens catch across my cheeks as he reached for the cloth resting over my eyes. Instantly I grabbed his wrists. A surprised sound was muffled as I leaned down and rested my lips on his.

I don't know what made me do it.

Call it stress, distraction, pent up sexual frustration, but I had to taste those unripe raspberry lips again…

It was soft, whispery. His mouth slightly parted and I could taste powdered sugar and syrup. It caused me to chuckle (French toast for breakfast). I felt a deep calm settling into my body… it seemed to swell in me and wish to nurture into something bigger. My tongue licked that bottom lip playfully before coming back into my mouth and resting. I increased the pressure a bit, and lingered, but pulled away. It surprised me that Butters tried to follow.

"W-Wow…" the boy breathed. I nodded, leaving my forehead against his. "That was…"

I was still tingling from that kiss, my tongue lolling around in my mouth in lovely saccharine flavored bliss, and lips swelling proudly. For a moment, I deeply desired to see what Butters looked like. I sighed bitter-sweetly.

He was probably flushed, cheeks bright and glowing, eyes half-lidded in rapture. Ahhh…

"Thank you for the jacket," I murmured, tucking him into me. His silky strands of sunshine tickled my chest as his head nodded. I let out a breath and just stayed like that, enjoying him so near to me.

…

I laughed as Butters held my hand, lugging me across the surface of the frozen pond. He and I were just keeping company, being ridiculously childish. I quite liked it. Liked is most likely an understatement, but that didn't matter much. Butters never once let go of my hand—the one marred by a demon no less.

We were skating—sort of. I wasn't too good as Butters was, but he was doing his best to teach me. Bless his golden white soul. Eventually I was doing figure eights next to him, and just generally complimenting him on his gracefulness.

"It's only 'cause you can't see," he teased, "I'm not _that_ good…"

"I beg to differ, darling," I drawled, sliding a little to the right and nearly falling on my butt. Butters let out a yelp and tugged me back up; holding my hand so furiously our palms became soaked with sweat.

"Be careful," he chastised. I shrugged, but smiled nonetheless. Again, we were silent. Only breath and heartbeats conversing between us. I was so content; I hadn't grasped the fact I was humming again. Not until Butters had to comment. "You were singing that before I got to you too. What song is it? It's very beautiful. I l-like your voice."

I had snicker quietly to myself. I sped up our circling pace a bit. I had to think of an answer.

"Uh," I began stupidly, "I ain't sure. Sometimes I just kinda… sing."

"Why?" he questioned. I felt him grow closer to me.

"It… helps…" I said, my brows wrinkling.

"Helps what?"

"Dunno. Just helps me. Sometimes I just hum. Other times it's words. I'll beat out a tune. It calms me down. I don't really do it in public. I'm not too great at it," I humbly tried. Butters spun around in my arms suddenly. My feet glided to a sudden halt. My reaction was to glance down at the boy who I knew was in my arms.

"I read for my Brit Lit class during the summer that JRR Tolkien had a thing for music," he said. I remained silent, very confuzzled by this topic. Butters sighed and relaxed his hands. "He has a cosmological myth known as the Music of the Ainur."

"Cosmo-who-does-me… wha?"

"I-It's a myth of c-creation basically…" Butters explain self-consciously, "In Tolkien's world Eru is the name of God and with a host of angels, called Ainur, they sung the worlds into being. I-In fact, did you know that his famous star of Earendil is known as both the evening and morning star? The star is a-actually Venus. In my summer class, my teacher found it funny because in Christian theology, the morning star is the nickname God gave to his favorite angel… which… was… Satan… err, did I-I lose you somewhere K-Kenny?"

"Yeah, but that's okay," I mumbled, massaging my forehead.

"Really sorry… Y-You just reminded m-m-me of t-that," he tripped over his words. It caused me to grin as I let my fingers trail down his tiny hands.

"Why is that?" I inquired.

"Tolkien said the Ainur should be recognized as gods themselves for they were beings of the same order. Beauty, power, and majesty…I-I also like the think that they represented l-love as well," his voice drifted off as my face became enflamed.

"Y-You think of me that way?"

_**(Stan) Did I tell ya, or did I tell ya?**_

_Hush your face!_

Stan hooted uproariously in my mind as Butters just nodded (I think). I coughed and tried to blood back up to my brain to say something in response. All that happened was… "UhhhrgACK!"

Whatever the hell that noise was. So much for godliness, eh?

_**(Stan) Kenny! Someone's near!**_

_What?!_

My head went up and quickly began searching for sounds or any feelings. Butters made a noise and his body swayed as he looked about. "What are you doing?"

"I thought I heard someone…" I lied smoothly. "Do you see anyone?"

"Uummm…" A pause and then a soft giggle. "In the distance. It's Pip!"

"Pip? What's he doing here?" I thought aloud. A second later I spread my fingers through that fluffy head of hair. "Hold the phone! I remembered right now what day it is! It's Friday. Why aren't you two at school?"

"Er, weeeeeeell," he nervously tittered and probably bowed his head.

"Ya know what, never mind," I sighed and let go of his hair reluctantly.

"Hehe, s-sorry."

"No biggie, let's back on task!" I exclaimed. "Where's Pip? What's he doing?"

Butters was waiting. Being blind, I was at a loss at what was transpiring.

_Stan, could you…?_

_**(Stan) Sure thing. Just hold on.**_

I could feel the lukewarm energy of the empathy flowing around me. Like water, it was shifting and changing, as the emotions round it altered. I breathed out deeply. Something was there, definitely. I just couldn't understand all the process of it.

_**(Stan) Here, let me tell you… Oh. There are three beings in this area.**_

_Me, Butters, and Pip, right?_

_**(Stan) Wrong. You don't need powers to count yourself Kenny.**_

… _what? Who else is…?_

_**(Stan) A demon.**_

"Butters!" I reached out, but my arm just swiped at air. I could hear the pattering of his footsteps in the slush. I surged forward and ended up skidding unto my ass. "Stop!"

"But he's hurting!" Butters called. In the back of my head, I heard Stan ask something, but I wasn't focusing on it. I growled under my breath, about to make a remark, when the sharp sound of ice cracking sliced the air in two.

The telltale splash followed, and my heart stopped beating for a moment.

"No! _**Pip**_!"

A cry of anguish.

Pip… fell in the ice…?

Wait a minute—

I gasped and sprang to my feet, fleeing forward. Wisps of air stung me as the coat flung open. Snow flew up and all around me. I was running forward, leaving Butters crying out, struggling to keep up. I yelled something in irritation, and the noise behind me, settled down to a whimper.

_Tell me when to stop!_

_**(Stan) But Kenny it's—**_

_Just fucking tell me!_

_**(Stan) O-Okay…**_

What was I doing…? I… I was… I have no idea what to do.

I just kept running. My slippers flew off my feet, the soles blistering in the cold. I could feel my heart accelerate as I grew nearer. I could feel the thickness in the ice parting. Breath was something I didn't fret over either.

It worried me when there was only silence, I could hear no thrashing.

I stubbed my big toe due to my inattentiveness. It caused me crash down on the ice. The sound of shattering glass and lapping of waves had me on my knees, waving my arms around in circles. It felt like my world was tipping over on it's side. Vertigo made me to throw myself down, which solitary succeeded in launching me into the freezing water.

For that moment all of life was tranquil.

In the rocking waters, I could feel that song. Something… unreal to me, yet formed by me.

That water demon was here, strangling the life from poor Pip. That pitiable blond. Sucking the life from him. Unexpectedly, I shot through the water, diving myself toward that emotion of helplessness and despair and the gaping life-taker.

_**(Stan) Kenny! What are you doing?! You can't even see!**_

_I don't need to! I know what will happen anyway!_

_**(Stan) What…?**_

I didn't answer. I just kept plowing through the torrents of black water, drawing me down. Bubbles escaped from my nose, breaking against the sodden cloth over my lids. My arm reached out, probing, for a tiny spec of life somewhere hidden in the icy void before me.

I felt it, the snag of hair and the abrupt stop of the progress of that melody I was unconsciously following.

"_Pip_!" I shouted.

My arm was gripped in a vice. Fingernails embedding into my skin, making tiny skirls of red in the water no doubt. It was Pip, begging me. I nodded. I heaved him free from the many sickly things starting to drape around me. Coughing out water, I felt my heel kick at the face of an ugly creature. It howled, but I kept kicking.

It propelled me all the way to the surface when the top of my cranium bounced off the frost. I rested my neck up against it and slammed the back of skull into it again and again. Soon, the ice split and I managed to shove off chunks of hoarfrost and breach the water and into the air.

Lines of hot blood oozed between the strands of my golden locks. With Pip securely gripping on, I towed us up and on to the snow banks. The British boy's face hit the oxygen and in went shuddering gulps of mountain air, but they wouldn't release. I crawled across the ground, making sure we were far enough away from the hole in the middle of the pond.

"Somebody call an ambulance!" I screeched. I could hear the frantic sounds of somebody on the other side of the pond.

"D-Damien…"

I gazed down, forgetting I could not see.

_**(Stan) Be thankful for that… I'll be haunted with this memory forever.**_

"Pip… do you love…?" my voice was choking. My tongue was thick. In my quaking hands something cold and metallic was hard-pressed. My pointer finger was moved into a small open space and I felt a trigger.

A gun.

I practically dropped it but a cool hand joined the gun and kept it there. It moved over and was placed against something firm. Something fractionally lifting… a chest with a wildly beating heart. My mouth fell open and garroted sounds kept falling off my tongue.

"K-Kenny!"

"Butters!" I shrieked. His sounds came to an arrested fumble. My visage twisted to the side so he could hear me better. "**Go**! Now! Get help!" His sounds drifted off somewhere and I let out a dry sob, burying part of my face with my tattooed hand. It was a mock prayer to God for forgiveness. "Y-You planned to… die today… one way or a-another… didn't you?"

_**(Stan) Oh no… Kenny. Don't do it…**_

_SHUT UP!_

_**(Stan) He just needs some help!**_

_I can't ignore his pain…_

_**(Stan) Kenny! No! You will have helped kill him!**_

_HE WANTS TO DIE!_

"Our f-father… who art i-in-in… in…!" I shook my head no in hysterics suddenly. "I-I can't remember my prayer! P-Pip… don't make me… I tried; let's just get you to the hospital… L-Let's just—"

"P-Please…?"

I let in a breath. I could not… flake on him. I just… _! _

Fuckin' God! Give me some kind of answer! I… I…

I got my wish as Stan's empathy blanketed me from the horror and into that English lad's yearning.

_**(Stan) Do it, Ken. Now. He needs this.**_

And then I murdered Pip.

That bang of the gun stuns me. Stan is silent. The whole world seemed to have stopped.

When it begins to revolve once more, I have thrown the weapon so far away; it lands with a splash somewhere in the expanse of the pond. My lids are squeezed taut. Crying is like needles screwed into bones and leaking out the marrow when you have no eyes. My hands curled up into fists and I rocked back and forth on my heels. I hyperventilated so badly, I hurt.

Sirens in the background were nothing but the buzz of flies. Swarming to the corpse…

_**(Stan) K-Kenny… go back to the church… tell Kyle…**_

"I did it again Stan…" I whispered, feeling the spittle trickle down my chin. I wasn't aware of my body just yet.

_**(Stan) You HAVE to get up…**_

"B-But…!"

_**(Stan) **__**Go**__**, Kenny!**_

"FINE!" I burst. I scrambled up and dashed off.

My feet split open when they hit concrete. The salt strewn on the asphalt burned me and I welcomed it. I earned every sting, every ache, and every drop of blood that littered the earth. No tears could clean me.

That is what I get when I ask to have such a love as Butters… to have any love…

A third occasion, I'll say it, you can't really tell time when you got no eyes. I was already at the church. I knew because I tripped on the few stairs to the church. My hands caught me and swung open the doors. I gasped and face planted the floor. I lied there, feeling my body go into shock. I heard Stan curse inside me. My nails scratched the polish wood floor, causing someone to walk over. I heard a rather aggravated sigh.

"Goddammit, Kenny, I hate you…" a behemoth announced.

"Wonderful, that makes two of us," I taunted. I brought my knees up to myself and pushed upwards so my features were facing Cartman. "You remember how to do an exorcism? I need Stan out of me, but his empathy overrides my healing abilities. I'm gonna steal some of his energy, and you blast his damn pussy ass outta me!"

Cartman just made an astounded noise and Stan said something indignant.

_You offered._

_**(Stan) But what about—?! I'm sorry! If this is about Pip I never—**_

_Don't worry… It's not you… no… The _**Lover**_ will pay for this… I swear it…!_

**TBC…**

**A/N: **If ya'll thought that the premonition was about Butters, I sorry, but I purposely confused you. The whole time it _was_ about Pip. No one got that, which makes me happy.

And also in the musical agenda of chappy ten, the proofreading music was "The Bird and the Worm" song by The Used, thus followed by the The Cure's "Lullaby". Oh, moreover the sounds of rain drumming in from my open window helped too.


	12. The Numbing Charade Is Exposed

**A/N: **Theme song for this chapter is The Spill Canvas—_Battles._

**Determined: **Yes. Yes I really did. I love Pip. I'm practically Pip. Well, I'm most blondes on South Park actually… maybe it's because I am a natural blonde… hmm… Anyways. Damien and Pip are now happy in Hell. I think… maybe… keep reading to find out! Please! Thanks for the review too!

**Cupcake Fairy:** Aw. Thank you so much. –sighs- I think you are the only person who agrees. After I killed Pip, I think I lost quite a couple of fans. I should have hinted more strongly so to ready my readers, but I like subtly. Alas, my bad.

**thequillofdestiny:** Lol. I agree. Kyle is certainly a figure to be feared when angered. I have a friend very much like Kyle. I base a lot of what happens to him and his reactions from her. Hopefully its well within character. –shrugs- Everyone has a different vision of the same character I noticed. And, yes, I am extremely evil Kenny. Because I love him. Anyways, thank you for reviewing! It means so much to me!

**Warning:** Gay stuff. Lots of it. And random bits of … supernatural.

**Disclaimer:** Me love South Park long time! Me no own though… me sigh.

**Summary: **Kenny must get an exorcism. Cartman goes with to Jerusalem. When Kenny has a weird dream, the shit hits the fan… by the end of this chapter, an important secret will be revealed!

**Remember:**

"Blah" – Speech

_Blah_ –Thoughts

Blah – Self Explanatory

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………**.**

CHAPTER ELEVEN—The Numbing Charade Is Exposed

"I'll be back," I called over my shoulder. The clothes the church provided were brusque and smelled like freesia. I enjoyed it over the smell of blood for a change. Kyle roughly sighed and I heard his steps creak on the cherry wood floor of the chapel.

"You shouldn't be going at all," he protested, piano hands gripping my wrist. I didn't flinch. I was getting too use to being blind. I had to heal fast or risk losing my soul to the Lover. "The word has spread fast. Pip's dead and you and Cartman are going to be missing?"

"I already gave you a cover story," I reminded, tugging my hand free. Kyle dropped it, and I could just image the scowl settle over his face.

"You're in shock. The trauma of Pip's death was so severe, Cartman volunteered to pay for doctors in New York… I know…" the redhead trailed off, tsking at himself. I beamed and brightly slapped him on his back.

"We'll be back in a day or two," I informed, tapping my boots by the toe, "You'll have Stan back by the end of tonight. I swear it." Kyle made a sound close to a cut off laugh. Then he quieted. I shook my head. "He won't be hurt… I am not gonna take _all_ his power… just enough to get my eyes back. Really."

"I know," he spit out, "I just can't help but worry. I… really don't like this plan. Someone's… **dead**."

My heart felt like it was scrubbed over with needles at his words…

"I know…" I managed to get out.

"We'll arrive at Jerusalem approximately what will be tomorrow morning for you. If all goes well," Cartman grunted out, and I had the feeling he wasn't putting much happiness in the plan, "Stan will be awake by noon at the earliest."

"Thanks… I'll be watching…" Kyle's tone was gratefully cautious. I nodded in response and turned toward the exit it.

The sooner I get to the Holiest Ground of All Time, the better.

…

A laughing voice… soft and gentle, beckons me forward. I spin in a wonderland of beautiful silver flowers. Flowing blue waters lap the showers of glittering sand that is reminiscent of diamonds. A golden sun races through the sky like a chariot race. The wind caresses you warmly.

"Come to me…" that voice sings out a pleasant melody. Dumbly, I jog between rows of waving silky lily stocks.

"_Where are you?" I yell out, chuckling. My eyes swivel around, trying to locate anyone. All I could see was the fluttering gossamer of a ruby gown. Every time I grasped at it, it was like a ghost… slipping through my fingers and disappearing. So I grew distressed and began whimpering. That voice, so pretty… openly giggled at me. I tripped over my bruised, unprotected feet as an ass would. It was like I was a child. "WHERE ARE YOU?!"_

"_Lost, Kenneth darling… lost…"_

_I hugged my arms to my chest and felt my knees give out. I was bawling like a baby._

"_I'll find you… do not worry… I __**will**__ find you…"_

_The sun was sinking in the blue waters—turning it a teal color. It reflected over the fields of silver, and the stars in the sky started to sleepily blink awake. I stared up at the heavens, astounded… so beautiful… pricks of light… in white… pinks… blues… yellows… all sort of life dancing across the painted night._

"_Hello, far-off worlds…" I murmured, lifting my hands, as if I could pet them. "I'm looking for someone… Do you know where he is?" An emerald speck jovially twirled over the top of my ring finger. I smiled, spreading out my digits to watch the planet hide and pop out between them. "Is Butters here?"_

"_No. Not anymore," a tune rang out behind me. I gulped in a big breath. Heavily, the wine-colored gossamer gown floated to lean against my back. One sun kissed arm wrapped over my lightly clothed chest and kneaded into my abdomen. The other arm propped itself on my shoulder and let dainty hands embed themselves into my spilling hair._

"_Who are you…? What are you…?" I whispered, eyes wide._

"_Whatever you wish me to be, my love…" a face nuzzled into the back of my neck. Lush lips trailing over my skin and send the tiny hairs to stand on end. I froze and the body behind me shifted into me, barely rotating their pelvic region across my backside._

"_Are you… the Lover?" I asked, head being tipped back and my neck cruelly exposed._

"_I'm your lover," that mouth's tongue swept up and over the shell of my ear, "If that's what you mean."_

"_I don't—ah—have one," I answered, feeling a quiver begin from inside me._

"_But you want one…" that alluring accent teased. I closed my lids._

"_Not you, if that's what you mean," I repeated, serious and wrenching away._

_The shatter of glass erupted from all about me. The stars cried out, falling down and spiraling into an abyss as black and thick as velvet. I covered my mouth and tried to reach out, to catch them, but claws kept me back, tearing at me and ripping my flesh._

_The lilies wilted and a rotten smell rose from the seas. That glorious, golden sun spurted bursts of hot scarlet flames—onyx colored chucks of it crashing into the soft ground we were laying on. Maggots writhed from the cracks in the earth and I shouted as they started attacking my wounds that poured forth thick blood—shimmering like quicksilver and bubbling as demented talons scooped it into that mouth which looked so lovely before…_

_I shrieked and tried to drag myself somewhere that was not here, but impossibly strong hands flipped me on to my back, holding down my shoulders. I turned my countenance away when globs of congealed blood splat across my cheeks from those malicious lips above me._

_Then… a palm rested over the nether regions of my trousers. My head whipped back so fast, my neck fractured stridently. My lungs began pumping in and out air in time with the hand that fondled me eagerly. Precariously, I tried to keep my body from responding… but that hand had too much practice._

_I fumbled with my own hands to tried and arrest the fingers squeezing me, but to no avail. "S-Stop it!"_

"_Hush, now, you're enjoying this," the voice was hypnotizing. My head rolled back and grunted in dismay as my lower body arched. Half noises and bouts of dry sobs escaped me. My fingers still dug their nails into that creamy hand._

"_I'm begging you!" I moaned, and the voice let both hands rake over my laboring chest, like savoring victory._

"_What do you need from me, darling…?"_

"_I-I really don't want this…" I pleaded, but a weight shifted over me, and something wet was soaking the loose pants that were probably going to be ruined on the inside soon. "Don't toy with me… Just tell me what you want!"_

"_Oh! Come, you must know what I wish for more then anything…" that body bent down to my face and my orbs blinked as I saw a face, hovering over me. Lavished in golden tints… Straight Roman nose… full lips… sultry bedroom eyes… sweeping auburn hair… sharp cheekbones…_

_Gorgeous in a way that was both genders, yet neither…_

"_Where have I…—?!"_

_And then, lightening, bright and cobalt, split us. The demon was tossed back, splashing into the boiling sea. Bodies bobbed to the surface and I bit my wrist so I wouldn't make a horrified sound. I revolved, crunching dead flowers under my dirty and broken body. With narrowed eyes, I caught the Lover swimming, lifting up, and letting their arms coil into a pair of splintered barn-owl wings._

_I clutched at my forehead, feeling a pain throb across my temporal lobes and traveling throughout my body. It was similar to a brush fire sparked to life on the side of a simmering road… and then, the boisterous winds come and fan it bigger and bigger…_

_I curled up onto my knees, opening my mouth and squeaked out sounds because it felt like my heart was going to be vomited up. I dry heaved, shoving my hands into the cutting roots and grimy sand. I didn't care that with each fist grabbing, more of the ground began to slip away into the black hole before me._

_Then, I launched up, coughed down my internal organs and turned around, gazing across the galaxy of destruction I had caused. My face fell, throat tight for no reason. My flesh prickled. Blood oozed out and stained everything that had somehow remained white._

_Tears dribbled down… collecting and then dripping off my cheeks… swirling all the colors together._

_When they fell and hit they earth, it was like a grenade. Everything exploded, bursting into little balls of colored lights. The blasts of wind blew my lengthening hair behind me, curling them into tiny knots, and flapping my clothes against my immobile body…_

"_This… is what you want…?" I shook my head fiercely, howling. "__**This**__ is what you want?!"_

_I bowed my head, hands tightening and nails slicing up my palms. I squeezed my lids taut. With an intake of ashen breath, I felt the expulsion of all my powers… all my emotions… all of my soul. I watched myself scream into the dismal void of nothingness._

"_**It's like one thousand paper cuts… soaked in vinegar!"**_

…

My breath came back to me suddenly and my lids directly opened. I was stunned to realize I could fucking _**see**_…

I was staring up at a thick-cemented ceiling. It had some cracks and dips. The sun was slowly bleaching peeling tan-colored paint. Light streamed in from a square window with rounded edges and a flowery curtain that waved in a cool morning wind.

I sighed, closing my eyes, feeling the orbs inside actually roll and move to my will.

My arm was flung over my forehead and I was covered in sticky sweat, simply guessing by the smell of my BO wafting about the cramped room. A scratchy wool blanket in brilliant blue and burgundy triangles patterns was thrown over me. I happened to be in a straw bed, too. Hope there aren't ticks in here… Speaking of which—

I had no recollection of how I got _here_.

Well, whatever. I could see.

My arm flopped down and grazed the sandy floor. At the screech of a wooden door being pushed open, I turned my head. Cartman harrumphed when he noticed I was awake and blinking. He halted his actions and leaned his lard ass on the freakin' door jam.

"Finally," he accosted, but it held a note of relief in the tone, "I thought you would sleep forever."

"A couple of questions," I said, my voice came out hoarse, like it hadn't been used in a while. I pushed myself up, using my elbows. It took a bit of energy to throw off the blanket and crept my feet to the edge of the bed. Gravity seized me and I collapsed in a heap near the foot of the bed. Cartman, of course, never moved to me.

"Yeah…?" was all that was said. I struggled and yanked myself up to a swaying, slight unstable, but nonetheless standing position.

"What happened? Where am I? How long was I out? What happened to Stan's spirit? And… there had better be a damn bathroom here!"

…

"Two weeks?" I parroted, eyes comically enlarging. The doctor and the priest of the temple we were occupying for the time being were kneeling beside my bed nodded sagely. They had informed in accents so swathed in Mediterranean speech, I at first believed I misheard or they were mistaken, but Cartman only nodded, his chins wobbling.

"Its nothing short of a miracle," the doctor agreed. The priest remained silent and regarded me with interest.

"Y-Yeah…" I mumbled, rubbing at my cheek, which I pinched a minute ago.

"You really have no memory of your fever or hysterics?" he questioned sincerely. I just nodded, not looking up. The last thing I could gather was being half way interested in that stupidly hilarious Rob Sniechder movie that was being shown on the plane ride; I started to doze. Stan had slowly weaned off narrating for me so I could nap, and Eric was busy grumbling and bitching about peanuts or something…

He might have shaken me awake… and I perhaps recall stumbling down the steps off the plane and into our destination… but I had seen something that caught my eye… _Oh_, it was a vivid red dress a girl was wearing. It blew past me and I watched…

And then I'm gone.

Darkness. That's it.

Aside from that… dream thing.

The doctor briskly walked off after checking a few things I wouldn't truly understand, but I let him do it anyways. I rubbed my face tiredly. I had only been up for a few hours but it felt like days on end.

Then, the priest parked himself down on the bed— the wannabe furniture didn't seem to notice. I glanced up, seeing his elderly and haggard face boring into mine. Grey hair streaked with white and wrinkles and creases like a balled up piece of paper. I backed up on instinct. Cartman sauntered over, gesturing lazily to the man, "He preformed your exorcism."

"Oh… thank you…" I said, trying to give him a smile. The man just kept studying my face.

"He use to look twenty-four a few weeks ago," Eric commented, observing my face. I gasped and stared at the man, bewildered. The guy looked like he was on his way to ninety. "In your fever, we realized you were not just borrowing Stan's energy, but the spirit as a whole. Dude, all your injuries, or even history of injuries were like they never existed. Anyway, he managed to cleave Stan out of you at the last moment. I spoke to Kyle last week. Stan's spirit is in his body, but he's still in a coma."

I hid my newly formed sea colored eyes, a darkness creeping over me as I did so. "I… did that?"

"Well…" Cartman hummed and the priest sighed, lifting from the bed without speaking a word. "Not all you. You were right you know. There _was_ a demon trying to wrestle into you. It almost killed this poor priest. He's good though, but he never found anything in all his life like it… or what'll be left of his life anyways—"

"I'm so sorry! If there's anything I can—" I exploded and leapt to my feet, but was too clumsy to actually make it work. I had fallen across the bed and was twitching, about to open my mouth, but the priest held up his hand and I calmed down. That old face held nothing for me. Only a slight flicker of fear.

"Stop this… _thing_… that's all I ask," he rumbled. My hands coiled over the straws peeking from my resting place. The poor clergyman left before he could get my answer. Eric just let out some air he was holding in.

"Seriously," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck and wandering over to kick my butt back into bed the right way. "I would've killed ya if ya did that to me."

"I think he basically asked me to kill myself anyway," I whispered and closed my eyes.

"Makes sense. You go to hell and he doesn't dirty his hands at all," the fatass taunted.

"Shudup…" I mumbled. I was spying outside, finally seeing colors and shapes… for some reason, though, I was still afraid.

_Like the battles with yourself, that leave you insecure…_

…

My legs stopped being boneless with very little physical therapy. I was sort of use to getting back (figuratively, of course) on my feet in no time at all, what with all my broken body parts and such… Anyways, Cartman and I were packing our very limited assortment of clothing. I pushed my wisps of bangs out of my eyes as I held Eric's cell up to my ear and was telling Kyle about our flight in the next few hours.

"We'll get there early afternoon tomorrow… maybe late morning," I said. I was resting my head on the wall, peeking out the window from time to time. A few children laughed at something with sparkling sounds and began rushing down the streets. It made me smile.

"Great," Kyle answered and I heard clicking in the background.

"Adding more stuff to the file?" I asked. I glanced down at the watch I got from the church's lost and found. Unfortunately, we never expected to get held up in the Holy Land for so long, and so, with very little amount of clothing—we had to resort to the church's donations and such.

"No, I'm sending a fax," the genius replied. My watch told me it was an hour before our flight. Man, I _really_ wanted to get home…

"Fax to who? Damien?" I questioned. The steady rhythm in the background of Stan's monitor was distracting to me and I swayed with it.

"No…" he whispered. "I'm sending God a prayer."

"What?"

"Since you've been to Jerusalem, have you been to the Wailing Wall?" he inquired. I shook my head, but realized he wouldn't see it. I quickly corrected myself and verbalized. "Well, to spare you a long and arduous history of my religion and it's beliefs, the Wailing Wall—or Western Wall—was the western wall of the first or second Temple… there's other stuff I don't really remember from my schooling, but that was the only place we were allowed to pray at for a while…" A spike in the brain monitor and Kyle was silent. He returned after a moment, voice less disheartened, "So, many Jews write notes or prayers on paper and slip it in the cracks of the wall. They believe the wall… or… well, I suppose **we** believe the wall is the closet gate to heaven. Or the only gate. I dunno. I don't practice as much as Ike does."

"The fax though?" I hummed. Kyle sniggered and I heard his swivel chair move across the carpet.

"Nothing. There's just a number where you can fax your prayer to and a kind rabbi will post it there for you," he explained. My eyes scanned the dim room and I tilted my head up, hair dangling from my sweat-dampened skull.

"And what did you pray for?"

"For you to lose your mouth next time," he quipped and sputtered to find a retort.

"My mouth is very lovely!"

"I prefer your eyes…" a pause, "What does Butters prefer?"

"Soooooooooooooooo, like I said, we'll be getting back tomorrow at about ten or eleven am," I declared loudly while sprinting out the door to find Cartman. Kyle scoffed and the sounding of typing resumed.

"Can't ya just leave the bastard for a bit?" he suggested. I sighed with silent agreement as I came to the main part of the church and Eric could be seen sitting at the pews, flipping through some random prayer book. Looks like everyone was praying today. The phone buzzed with static in my ear and I stepped back into a clearer zone.

"Sorry my fruity femme," I said and a snort was the sound I received, "I gotta bring him. He has kept my ticket home strapped to him like a… well, some analogy good enough to that effect."

"Oh Kenny," Kyle mock sighed. I heard the rustling of his late night Jew-fro as he shook his head, "How I have missed your comic wit. You just snap back like a… hmmm. Damn. I can't find an analogy either…"

"Aligator?"

"Sure. Let's go with that." I rolled my eyes as Cartman stood up and pivoted to me, raising a brow, asking if I was ready. I nodded. The behemoth strode to the exit without another gesture or word.

"I got to hang up now, Eric and I will see you in a couple of hours," I notified, "Get some damn sleep too. I know you've been up!"

"Uh-huh. Right… See you later, 'gator!" Kyle taunted.

"_Oh_, snarky!"

"Just get on the stupid plane already!"

"After a while crocodile," I said goodbye and pressed the off button. Shoving the cell in my jean pocket on my right side, I ignored the tattoo that glittered dangerously in the light of the sun. Cartman waited, waving my plane ticket in the arid heat to create a wind.

"All set to save the world?" he interrogated. I blew my bangs out of my eyes and felt my body slump backwards toward the shade of the church as I stepped into the sunlight.

"No," I honestly said, "But I don't gotta choice anyway, now do I?"

The plane ride was uneventful. For that we can be fortunate. I spent most of the time regarding the emptiness in my head. Then my thoughts drifted to Kyle, sitting at his computer with bloodshot eyes more than likely, and watching over the comatose Stan with desperation. To Cartman, who was slumped in the window seat next to me and had his eyes closed. What went on in his bastard head I never cared before now to contemplate. I wonder if he did like Kyle… how it must feel to screw up your chances every time, to know that even if you were kind and showered your love with chocolates, they still weren't yours. Maybe that's why he didn't pretend. Perhaps Cartman did hate Kyle because he couldn't have him…

So my thoughts turned to Pip. Pip spent his life huddled in the cold, asking for some company; gazing into the freezing waters and yearning to drop in. Everyone dies eventually… there, in death, he would be warm and have someone to wrap their arms around him. I have not spoken to Damien… I would be in awe if he didn't go to Hell… I hypothesize if there's some small happiness in the sin I committed.

My mind landed on Butters. We parted with a carcass between us.

After a kiss that was never spoken of… but that's all right.

I… don't know what's happening at the time and place in my supposed battle of good and evil.

Err, well, maybe it is evil and lesser evil. I do not know.

I was wrapped up in these thoughts as I stepped on the airports curbside, catching the sight of Kyle impatiently staring at his brass pocket watch while leaning on Stan's truck. Cartman, who refused to take what little luggage we had, strolled over and flicked his forehead with a snort. The redhead's brows wrinkled and he rubbed at the spot with sour glare. I dragged the elaborately lime colored wheelie case behind me and slugged the gray bag—which was mine—over my shoulder.

"Hey, Kyle. How's it been going?" I said cautiously. The genius glanced at me solemnly. I noted the lines of frustrations that were beginning to harden around his mouth. Eyes weary and clothing grubby, Kyle shrugged and swung open the passenger door for me. I threw in the bags and climbed in, knocking my head on the handle that was broken just above the door.

"Yeah, be careful of that," Kyle warned. I mumbled something derogatory, making Eric laugh. The Jew graciously flipped me the bird.

"Fine, be that way…" I pouted, crossing my arms.

Kyle heaved himself up the distance to seat himself in the driver's side. Turning the key he tossed his chin over his shoulder and stated somewhat bitterly, "I gotta go get my brother from Jewish school. He's been studying for his coming-of-age thing."

"Bar-something or other," I added in trying to help. Kyle just nodded.

"Yeah, you really are of age when you can drink without having to worry about jail time," the lard-o cracked. I could see in the review-view mirror Kyle rolling his eyes. I suppressed a laugh and glanced out the window while we pulled away from the shiny, but shabby building of the airport.

"If you drink and drive, you could go to jail, fatass," the genius reminded. Cartman smirked and kicked his feet up on the dashboard.

"Good thing he can't drive yet…"

"Have some fucking respect for the fucking car, okay?" Kyle snipped, using his right hand to push the offending limps down. The brunet frowned and instead shoved one booted foot up against the slimmer boys side.

"Calm down, fagalicious," was the reply, I just sighed, quite use to this behavior, "I know how to respect _some_ authority. The dead for one—"

"Stan's not dead!"

"Get over it, you guys are broken up now—"

"I swear to God—"

"You don't believe in God!"

"I don't believe in Jesus!"

"Same thing!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"Is too, is too, is _toooooooo!"_

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"_Yes_!"

"_No!"_

"**Yes**!"

"… Yes."

"No, it's fucking not! Shut up and drive you God damn Jew!"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"… Shit. Don't even fucking say it, Kenny."

"Say what?" I ask innocently.

"Exactly."

And Kyle was smug the rest of the trip.

We were coming up to the long line of evergreens that were dotted all around Colorado for some strange reason… Snow crunched and soft music was bouncing about as the wind pushed at the truck. It teetered, but was otherwise fine. I hated this drive. Brought back bad memories.

I am _so_ never saving Moses again… that glowing a-hole…

"How long do we have to be here?" I asked, my tension seeping into me as I turned from the window to the back of the drivers seat. Kyle jerkily twisted the wheel onto the dirt road leading to the campy Jewish school thingy.

"I just got to pick up Ike," he stated, pulling up to the back end of a dingy and looking worse for the wear cabin. "So just give me five minutes. He'll be thrown in the back with you."

"God, fuck that," I said with a growl, unbuckling my seatbelt hurriedly as the redhead switched off the engine.

"What? You wanna come with?" he offered, unbolting the door with his shoulder and sliding to the ground. I kicked the evil polyester seat forward and scrambled to get out quickly.

"I've been immobile for two weeks, plus hours-long plane ride over the Atlantic, and then another three or four going up to the mountain get-away-school; I'm stretching **and** driving home," I demanded. The genius opened his mouth to argue but I kicked him in the shin, efficiently cutting him off. He winced and rubbed at his legs, dropping the keys into slush. I smirked and swiped them up right into my pockets.

"Really nice," the slim one grumbled. I just shrugged and motioned for him to lead the way. He limped up to the back entrance; getting the feeling in his legs back quickly after a moment.

We padded into a dim, but smoky warm area where students with those hat things delicately perched on the heads of curly hair (yay sterotypes!) were sitting in a slant of theatre like seats. Ike was standing on a platform in the front, talking with the indigo robed man who was writing down stuff on a chalkboard I will never be able to read.

"Hmm, the Book of Isaiah," my companion read under his breath. We stepped down a slow steep to the platform and Kyle waved as soon as Ike noticed us. He laughed and waved back. He spun to the man, who pointed at the open Bible in his arms and nodded genially. Ike bowed and swiftly departed, bouncing over to us with shiny eyes.

"Hi bro, hi Kenny!" he chirped. I gave him a crooked smile and started trekking back up the steps toward the main area. Ike had different plans. "Guess what we're reading today Kyle!" He grabbed his brother's arms fiercely and shoved the book under his nose. The older tried in vain to fling it away, but Ike was too enthusiastic. "It's the desolation of Edom! And, the rabbi says that for such a scholar like me I should also note the only appearance of Lilith!"

"Yeah, he said that to me too back when mom made me go here," the fire-headed youth informed caustically. I giggled and poked the genius in the side.

"Do rabbi's also abuse little boys like the catholics?" I whispered. Kyle cruelly thrust his elbow in my ribs and Ike paused, shaking his head at my lack of PCness and lack of sensitivity. Let me just say I sorry to any I offended…

But honestly, why get mad at what you can't change?

Eh. Whatever. I ain't going to Hell anyway. So… yeah, screw you if you can't laugh. YOU'RE LETTING THE RAPISTS WIN! WE SHOULD LOCK YOU UP FOR BEING AN ACCOMPLICE!

Wow. Anyways, those are my thoughts when no oxygen rushes to my brain. I'm bent over, blinking at Ike, who just shakes his head as the multicolor spots stop dancing in my eyes.

"You have weird friends," the Canadian points out. I wave it away and straighten, brushing off the invisible dust.

"Says you," I reply and tip the bible down so I can see the pages in a mock sort of disgust. "Really, you're a religion nerd, lil—" I choke on my own words as I stare at an odd picture of Eden. In the middle of the Tree of Knowledge with bird like feet, the snake dangling from her lower body, was a sinfully gorgeous woman; Adam shunning her in a corner.

"Kenny…?" Ike inquired, voice sort of distant and wavering. My hand falls over my mouth as my orbs trace over the figure in the aged picture. The caption reads under it as a painting taken from a different century and reprinted in this new book.

The detail… the colors… the _accuracy_…

"_**Kenny**_!"

Kyle, his chest puffing and hands tomato-red from having ripped the bible from my hands, has his brown drawn worriedly. He ushered his little sibling up toward the safety of the outside of the woodened cabin. I blink around, realizing my eyes are widened to a ridiculous size and are leaking brine. The few remaining people in the study area are trying not to look at me, but the curious glances keep falling on my flushed profile.

My Hebrew friend seized my arm and dragged me away, toward a hallway I didn't see before. My tears have by now slipped between my trembling fingers and dripped onto my tongue. The tang of salt shocked me awake faster than what I had seen.

"Kenny what is—"

"Who's Lilith?" I burst out, clutching my shoulders without warning. The poor kid nearly stumbled to his doom, my grip kept him up however.

"What?"

"Lilith! Who is she?!" I urgently intone. Kyle seemed to jostled and couldn't find any words, just stuttered and creased his forehead, shrugging. I shook him harder, practically bashing his skull on a rotten wall. "**Tell me!"**

"No one!" he grunted, winding against my fingers until he got free. My nails caught a couple of his pea green sweater seems. "Just a demon!"

"A demon?!"

"Ugh—" Kyle ran his hands through his messed up hair, then promptly hid it beneath that stupid beanie once more. "Some people argue one of the first demons. She gave birth to the demons. Err, well, supposedly from the Dead Sea Scrolls she is reported to be Adam's first wife. But she refused to be on the bottom. He didn't want to be anything but top, and she then flew away… I dunno! Like I said, I don't practice as much as Ike! Why the fuck is it so important?"

I breathed through my mouths in unequal and harried gasps. "She's the one who stole my eyes…"

"W-What…?" Kyle gulped, hand flopping down from his beanie as he gazed at me.

"And… in my dreams…" I covered half my face with one hand in shame and my side like an inferno began to scorch it.

"Wait a second! What are you—"

I let out a wail and slumped down to my knees. Kyle raced to hold me up, but it didn't work. I sat there, head hung down, feeling the stinging wash over me in constant drones. I breathed erratically, mentally trying to force a grip on my sanity.

"Do you know what this means…?" I whisper. The genius didn't live up to his title; he just caught hold of both sides of my mug, making me look him in those jade eyes. I closed my lids and fell backwards, losing the feeling of his pads running over the stark whiskers on my cheek.

"Oh… oh _shit_…_**!**_"

"We finally found out who the lover is…"

I'm finally awake… but I'm still afraid. I suppose today is not the day.

**TBC…**

**A/N: **_**O M G ! CLIFFHANGER!!!!!!!!!**_

Yup. Bitching I am. I let it out who the lover is! -is dancing in seat- Oh! Oh! I am awesome! (by the by, I am singing about how flipping awesome I am right now)

Yeah. Sorry. I am having lots of fun with this fic. Anyways… any questions? I will answer in next fic. Please let me know!

SteelAgainstIvory 


	13. Beliefs Are Like Silver Dollars

A/N: So I was thinking of replacing the summary of I leave up constantly on the site. Instead of what was in the prologue, I was thinking of replacing with the summaries I write anew in the beginning of a chapter as a joke. That way people know that I have updated and blah… Anyways, what do you think of that? I think I want at least five positive agreements if you want me to do it. All up to the readers! So say if you desperately want!

Determined: I lurves religiousical stuffies. Lurves them so. In fact, I am getting baptized on Easter Vigil o_0;;; Really kinda fucking scary; My priest keeps telling me I'll be _branded_ by Jesus.

loozje: Lilith isn't that well known of a biblical figure. Wiki! Wiki! Love ze wiki! But basically she is Adam's first wife in certain texts. She turns into a demon because of her free nature and refusal to be bottom during sexual positions. And whatever will happen to Stan indeed…? I, uh, actually don't know yet O.O

**thequillofdestiny**: You and Hot Monkey Brain should have a baby! CALENTE DAMN! I love shouting your guys' names when I see your reviews. Good thing I write in the privacy of my room… Hehe, yeah, sorry about the subtle Cartman obsession! You can thank my baby bro. He is all about the dominating semes -.-' It's kinda creepy. It's fun to write angry Kyle… who can be dim sometimes I have noticed too. Lol! Please enjoy!

**Hot Monkey Brain**: Gaaah, man do I love your reviews. I have been needing them for sometime. Life sucks at the mo-mo! Eh, enuff 'bout meh, now to my story! Yes. I am an EXTREMELY subtle writer. –scratches cheek- I actually often forget about all my subtext and that sort when I get into it. You praise me too much! All this just sorta… happens. –bows- But thank you. PLEASE ENJOY CHAPTER TWEVLE! –flashes victory sign in a Kenny-ish way-

**VulcranDune**: Dude, like, SERIOUSLY?! GAH! I FLIPPING ROCK! Lmao. Thanks so much. You made my day!

**Bethany C. Mackenzie**: -ROFLFAOH- If you can guess what that all stands for, I will frickin' marry you. But anyways… ahhh, I loved your review! SQUEE! I AM ON SO MUCH HAPPY SUGAR HIGH RIGHT NOW! Thank you and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Sorry 'bout the late coming and all…. m(_ _)m

**Blitzdrake**: -is now teary eyed in a very Otaku chibi fashion- I love you. You understand me so perfectly. Lol, but you give me too much credit. I dunno how I got so good at writing, -scratching brow perplexedly- If I even did. I doubt it often. –NO SELF ESTEEM- However, I am ecstatic you are enjoying what I also love to do in life. So without further ado, I give you the next chappie. Hope ya like! 

**CupcakeFairy**: I love how you just get to the point. It's awesome. I'm glad you are liking so far. Sorry for the wait! I HAVE UPDATED FOR YOUUUUUUUUU!

**Fireness:** Hey, no problem. I have done that two before. In reality, this is the only thing I have worked on since January. GAH! Life is getting tough. BUT I AM WORKING ON THIS! I SWEARS! Thankies! And here ya are—another chapter!

**Hand Nun**: We share similar qualities, I too run from unfinished stories. Too much work to check up on them. –blushing- I am happy to know I have been an exciting read. I jam-pack tons of stuff in my stories after my first two starter ficcies (Couple Conspiracy and The Snow on My Flesh, both took forever to get to the point. Yet, this is more than likely why I have been having trouble with my SiriusxRemus Chibi fics. Both have a slow build up…). I have come to the belief "go big or go home" or is it, "why waste space online and on compy?" Anyways, I thank you! Sorry for such a long wait! Here is my next chapter! Also full of crapola! HAHAHA!

**Warning:** Gay stuff. Lots of it. And random bits of … supernatural.

**Disclaimer:** Me love South Park long time! Me no own though… me sigh.

**Summary: **So Kenny goes all dictator for a few pages, then Lilith kicks his ass, there is some limbo convo going on with Damien, and many sedations for poor Kenny. More (Kutters)Bunny fluffiness! Slight mention of Creek. Lastly, a fun ending… well, for me, The Author Goddess that is XD. Sorry Kenny!

**Remember:**

"Blah" – Speech

_Blah_ –Thoughts

Blah – Self Explanatory

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………**.**

CHAPTER TWELVE—Beliefs Are Like Silver Dollars

"We're gonna need a look out, that whole garage of holy items from Jimbo, a couple of drops of something in order to wake up Stan… _fuck_! Damien needs to get up here too—if we can pull him away from Pip that is," I was ordering around sternly, arching the truck widely down the canyon back home. Kyle had brought out his computer and was typing away, making the clicking of the keyboard go so fast it sounded like one long click to me, and I got pretty good ears. "Shit! We need research—don't even bother with the Internet—go straight to the library!"

"Do you have any idea how long that will take?!" the redhead screeched over Cartman's cursing in the back as I raced towards South Park. Ike was bouncing up and down and praying for dear life.

"Can't help it!" I shouted and narrowed my eyes as I blazed down the trail—dust kicking up and obscuring the side view mirrors. The engine was grinding and I yanked down on the gearshift, freeing myself to go a bit faster. I managed a glimpse at my Hebrew friend. "Listen, if we are dealing with—well, someone worse than the Anti-Christ and was able to trap Satan—then we are in big trouble. Internet will be full of jerk-offs spouting crap and really bad religious fan fics." I sudden chill made me slow down the truck a bit and look around more carefully. Satisfied I was only paranoid, I went back to ordering Kyle around. "We need an actual tome for this one!"

"But there are no books on Lilith," Ike interrupted, holding up his bible to me. Kyle and I turned around at the same time, brows drawn as we shrieked at the same time.

"SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP!"

The boy made a meep and quickly lauched backwards, hiding behind the Good Book.

"Maybe you should slow down?" Eric suggested from the back. From a speedy peek in the rear view mirror he looked a bit green around the gills. I chuckled darkly and launched into the fifth gear, taking off across an abandoned back street.

"Lilith entered my dreams even before she stole me eyes…" I reminded. I jerked the wheel, almost making the car flip over as I drove down an alleyway, cutting the time to get to Kyle's house even shorter. He screamed, clutching his laptop until his knuckles grew pinkish to white and back to yellow as we flew into residential neighborhoods. I honked the horn to let people know in time I was speeding. "If anyone has my hourglass, it _has_ to be her. Why? I don't know. Could that be how she can get to me? Who knows? But we _cannot_ waste time."

"Do you think Stan if safe?" Kyle urgently asked, lowering his voice as his compy clattered on his lap. I didn't bother glancing at him.

"No… I don't."

Conversation ceased until I slammed on the brakes, realizing I had accidentally drove past Kyle's house for a few blocks. I was going so fast I forgot to pay attention. Whoops. Stupid blondes.

I threw the truck in reverse and speed backwards; spinning my head to make sure I didn't hit anyone. Of course, no one was in the roads at all. I punched the brakes and whipped back to crank the emergency brake and put the vehicle in park. I shut off the engine and threw the keys at Cartman. He fumbled to catch them and Ike had the widest eyes I had ever seen on a Canadian.

"You," I pointed to said adoptee, "Out." The kid scrambled out, not even bother to kick the chair up, just jumped out the window like a suicidal child. "Cartman, church and holy weapons from Jimbo—now!" The lump of cancer waddled his way into the drivers seat and Kyle slipped out of the open passenger door.

"Me?" he asked as Cartman started the truck. I nodded to the house and together we ran inside. Kyle kicked open the door Ike had unlocked moments before in an effort to evade me. I just followed the redhead down to his basement; despite the protest his bitch of a mother was beginning to throw upstairs.

I leapt the last three stone steps to the dusty ground. I gasped as thousands of papers with all kinds of printout and scribbles in various Technicolor patterns littered the room. A cross was already hung up over Stan's sleeping place—the only tidy corner in the room. The monitor beat a random sort of rhythm. Kyle explained it a while ago as dreams, thoughts, and mental stability as it all wavered through different things. Stan's had no definition and I briefly pondered what that meant.

Kyle hooked up his desktop notebook and browsed the Internet. I strode over to Stan first and foremost. He was far enough away he didn't hear any clicking, no tears, no nothing. I shook my head and kneeled down beside his bed, feeling the rough ground through the thin jean fabric.

"Stan…" I whispered. His monitor blinked once, but soon settled into another tune. I sighed and fisted my hands. "Buddy… you _gotta_ wake up… if you don't… It's just not the same without you. I'm no good at playing leader. I've always been a—a sacrifice…"

I paused. The raven's monitor did a weird hiccup in blue lines… then nothing.

"Damn…" I hung my head down. _Sacrifice… eh?_

I thought of Butters and my Loveless analogy from before. At least that boy was safe… I did something right then.

"_Kenny_!" a hysterical shout. I flinched, rising up and cracking my kneecaps. I spun my head around the room, feeling my chest constrict suddenly. I gasped and felt my legs give out like the gravity increased in hundreds. Sort of like those carnival rides that spin round and round so that the force keeps you pinned on the walls.

I slumped against Stan's bed. The safety wheels creaked and the gurney traveled a couple of inches to the right. I tried hard to breath shallowly, but with even intakes. My eyes searched the room, and I observed Kyle clutching his head, blood pouring from his ears in rapid streams.

"No…" I breathed. I lurched up and kept my feet apart, knees bent so I could stay up. "**ALRIGHT!** **Where are you, you **_**fucking bitch**_?!" My face grew red with the effort of screaming and keeping up right. I closed my eyes as I felt the room revolve in oval dimensions.

Lilith was here.

"_My, my, you do have a filthy mouth_," that velvety voice drifted around the room like mist, coating and clinging. "_I bet it could do other dirty, wonderful things_."

"Like you'll ever find out," I hissed. Talons scrapped down my back and I whirled. Nothing there. I kept my head turning and watched wearily as bits of shiny, floating ruby satin caught my eyes—reflecting no doubt in the depths of the sea.

"_Why are you being this way…_?" that sumptuous voice pouted. I snorted and managed to steal a quick look at Kyle struggling to keep awake as crimson syrup seeped between his pearly whites.

"Why are you attacking my friends?" I shot back. A laugh echoed and bounded across the room like it was physicality.

"_Because of that furious look in your pretty little eyes_," was the answer. My brows twitched and I nervously backed up to Stan's bed.

"What the fuck is it with people and my goddamn eyes?!" I growled, shutting the lids and desperately hoping to find the answer in the darkness.

"_Damned by God you say…?"_ the voice, silky, wrapped over me and I shivered, feet going numb. I tipped over and skid down the tile flooring. "_Far from it Kenneth darling…"_

"What are you talking about now?!" I yelped as my jelly arms were having difficulties holding my body up on the cot securely. "Does this have something to do with my hourglass?! Because God and the devil let me **live** all the time?!"

"_Again, dear, far from it,"_ was the amused reply.

"Then give me it back!"

"_Have you ever even seen your hourglass_?"

I hesitated. My primary reaction was to shout out, "Of course!"

But that wasn't the case. With a startled realization… I had never actually _**seen**_ my hourglass. The Hall, sure. Many hourglasses too… but never _mine_. It just never seemed important to me. Death waved it off, saying God had it all handled and not to worry.

But why should I have worried in the first place…? Right…?

"K-Kenny…" the Jew was fumbling across his desk, scattering things everywhere. My brain couldn't name them. I was having trouble _thinking_ clearly, let alone anything else. My stomach turned queasily, making my throat burn, and I noted it was the increasing pressure I felt over take me.

Suddenly, I had blinked, and then Kyle was lying across the floor, hand shakily pointing something at me. I was supposed to be scared, I knew that, but the feeling wasn't coming to me.

It's very difficult to explain… but it's a bit like when you are in the state where you are between awake and asleep. You understand your alarm clock is blaring at you to get up to get ready for the day, but your bed is so warm and your mind so hazy, you just can't muster up any strength or will in the beginning.

Then, my eyes seemed to project the image of a gun—not any gun, but a monstrous thing with many bullets—glaring me down. It took a bit later to recognize it wasn't at me, but something waving around me. My head tipped downward… fingers, smoky in substance, but definitely there, digging into my chest—directly over the sternum.

Kyle's eyes, staring at me horrified and unsure, were leaking a pale pink liquid after a moment. As soon as the situation registered in my mind, I felt my body trembling in a freezing embrace uncontrollably. "Wait…" I coughed out.

"_Yes…?"_

"Whatever you want, I can give!" I sputtered. Kyle's fingers twitched, making the holy gun I used so long ago clack to the ground. The genius was surely about to burst from such intensity this demon was causing. I _**had**_ to stop the madness… "Just tell me what you want…"

"_Only you…"_

I felt her digits suddenly slash into my chest, I let out a guttural noise as blood rushed up my larynx immediately. My head thunked back, and I could feel the burning in my hand begin to rise. Death for a final time… no doubt her doing as well… a scorching fire spread over the tips of my fingers and I closed my eyes, unable to watch Lilith's eager face as she pet my heart openly.

I was shocked to and from live and glorious death until she let her hand finally hover over my raggedly beating organ.

"B-But why…? Why me, L-Lilith?" I had to ask, peering my orbs open. A fanged smile was the only vision I saw.

"_I refuse to be beaten."_

"Sad life for you bitch," a pompous voice interrupted. We snapped our eyes to see that bulky Eric Cartman, dangling a rosary from his hands. "Because that's exactly how this thing's gonna end."

The fat ass swung the charm in hypnotizing circles. Lilith cried out, withdrawing from my chest cavity and shielding herself. I teetered back and forth. Cartman stepped into the room and almost instantly, the air lifted. A huge weight seemed lifted from my shoulders. I toppled back, blood pouring forth and coating my marked hand sickly. I closed my eyes and muttered, "Quick… recite the Lord's prayer…"

A long pause.

…

"She's gone, Ken," Eric's voice drifted over me. "You're losing track of time, again."

"I need to heal…"

My eyes were going dizzy and I could feel something hard under me… but it was cold and dusty like the floor should be. More of sleek, cool, and filled with smooth lines. It smelled of plywood.

"Didn't we just do this?"

"She l-loves to fuck you up…" tone is haggard and yanking. Frantic beeping.

What the fuck…?

"Kyle, you can't do this, just tell me—"

"Shut up lard-o!" vehement, impatient, and close to screaming in frustration. Ah, Kyle.

"Kyle… that's you, yeah…? I… I think I'm blind again…"

"You're eyes are closed," is the answer. So I try to lift them. It's like trying to get your feet out of cement galoshes. All I can see through pale gold thick lashes is a bright light—white and over powering.

"Am I going to Heaven…?"

"No… not unless I have anything to do about it!"

"Heaven's pretty… did you know that?"

"Y-Yeah, I know…"

"Kyle, you're—"

"Shit! Cartman, quickly—hand me—the gas!"

Darkness.

Floating.

…

Death?

No… not there yet…

Damien. Standing before me in the nothingness.

"Kenny," he sighs.

"Where am I?" I question, but when my mouth opens, only bubbles appear. My body is suspended, hair ghosting about, clothes drifting up and down, as if in water. Damien, however, is untouched. Like on solid ground. Clothes are stock still, curls still about his head neatly and cross hanging on his neck without so much as swaying.

"This is limbo," he answers, shoving his hands in his pockets and tossing the long black trench coat open. "You're not dead, but you aren't alive either."

So many things I want to ask, but strangely none comes to mind. I merely nod.

"I came while I was observing the encounter." Damien looks down at his feet. "Ah, Lilith. I should have known." He glances back up. I glide down to him. It feels like nothing… but has the attitude of wading in oil… "I must admit, I don't know if you do have a real hourglass. Death wouldn't answer me. I sent an envoy to God. No reply. There is something that is being hidden of your ability to transcend the plains."

"No shit Sherlock," pops out in another bubble. Damien sort of gives me a weak grin.

"I… I wanted to thank you… for Pip's sake… I mean."

I blink.

"You saved him—as crazy as it sounds that murdering and sending him to hell saved him, but it did," he added. I just floated, waiting. Damien shook his head. "But anyway, that's all I wanted you to know, so don't get all moral and NOT kill Lilith or something… Er, yes… I've been looking up interesting things. I think you should know something."

I tilted my head, showing him I was paying attention.

"Kenny, I discovered that Butters is—"

My body shuddered without warning. The blackness about me appeared as if sucked up and spit out somewhere to another void. Ripped away, I was left falling into a white abyss. I screamed—noises and sounds escaping like songs believe it or not.

For an instant, I believe I might have seen creation.

But, by the next, it was the gloom as my soul crashed into my body.

…

"W-Why can't I feel my fingers…?" I query. My eyes are closed and I feel a tube contraction strapped over my nose. Fresh, clean oxygen was pumped into me in steady streams. A jump in the room alerted me to the presence of someone rushing to my aid. They grabbed my hand and flexed it, and slowly, I felt a fluid sink into my body through my arms.

"I-It's your IV," was the soft voice. My heart shuddered. I knew that sweet and innocent voice.

"Butters!' I cracked my eyes open, trying to dislocate my hand—that damn tattooed one no less—from his.

"I'm O positive… a universal donor," was the hushed tone. IV? Blood types? His blood… is in me? What a warm, fuzzy feeling I have…

"Kyle's sleeping too, Cartman went home after giving him his blood. He thought he wouldn't be safe for me too donate too much," the boy explained in a rush. I sighed. Yeah. That's why Cartman did it… what a sweet guy. Hope Kyle never finds out.

"How long have I slept?" I question, my head turning to the side. I felt a leathery strap scratch my neck as I did it.

"Well into the n-night…"

"Wake me in the morning then," I yawn and grip his tiny child-like hands tightly as I can—which can't be much. "And please don't leave me… I-I'm scared…"

A little giggle, "You, scared?"

"Yeah…" I answer. Seriousness settles over us.

"R-Really?"

"Just don't let go of me… ever…"

"A-Alright."

…

When I came to again, the lights were low and a sound clicking could be heard on the other side of the room. My head felt like there was a semi trying to barrel its way from my skull by the inside out. Needless to say, that clicking was getting old pretty fast.

I started to pull myself up, but my chest felt like it was being torn into shreds. A startled cry escapes me and I flop onto my back, sputtering as monitors erratically sound off around me. The clicking may have stopped instantly, but the noise that resulted in the squelching of the sound was a thousand times worse.

Suddenly clacking boots echo in the tiny basement and I feel a cold, soft hand tapping at my arm. It took me a moment to realize someone was looking for my vein. I shout intangible sentences about the dark, heaven, Butters, and so many other things I myself did not fully understand.

In a few moments, a slow sting flows into my body… growing to sedated warmth.

_Shit_… not again…

…

Third time's the charm. I'm up… blinking… yanking IV's and tubes, and tossing them onto the swept up floor. A pink stain is floating about the concrete and I vaguely care to call it a bloodstain.

"Somebody…!" I croak. A low snore is interrupted and fluttering paper goes everywhere. "A little help here…! Bucket… please!" My knees hit the floor, my skin is split and some scabs will form in a few hours. I can just tell. My hands slap the ground, causing my arms to shake. I'm lucky I didn't decapitate myself when a bucket was soon pushed under my neck.

All the food I had consumed, and I know it wasn't enough, was up chucked into the cruddy white plastic excuse of a tub.

Fuck…! This _again_…?!

I cry like a baby whose candy was taken. My butt plops down behind me and I curl my legs over the bucket, just yakking away. Someone absently rubs my back in tiny circles. It took me an a few more minutes before I could spit out the last of the acid.

"You okay…?" was the soft question. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand—bad etiquette, sure, but useful.

"How long was I drugged?" I questioned.

"Only a few days," Kyle replied. I nodded. My hand went straight to my chest. A jagged line rippled through me, all across the front. I didn't dare glance down. I was way too concerned for looks not to start blubbering if I saw the damage to my once firm and tone chest.

"She wanted my heart… I almost died…"

"Yeah…"

"Any idea why?"

"N-No… I'm sorry, I was just researching."

I rubbed my forehead, staring anywhere but into that bucket. I was dizzy and I barely recognized how much my muscles were tensing. It took a second to actually notice I was shaking so extremely, the bucket was beating a sort of rhythm on the cement flooring. I lifted it toward Kyle, who wrinkled his nose, but it took it away from me.

Wrapping my arms over me I let out a breath, closing my eyes. I was trying to get my thoughts in order, but I was slowly losing it. Everything felt bottled up inside and I wasn't quite sure which button to press to release it…

_God_, did I need some sex.

The redhead eventually was back next to me, coaxing me on the gurney that was more than likely made out of lumps from a lime quarry. I tumbled gracefully (that was sarcasms by the by) onto the bed and managed to discharge out all the crap that happened while I was stuck in limbo for a short time.

The genius Jew was busy taking notes after he handed me some nutritional gruel for my breakfast. As much as it smelled like rotten old gym socks left to mold, I swallowed every bite faster than the last. I'll taste vomit and socks for months.

Kyle let me get up and move around his house—it was two in the morning I found out when I stumbled up the stairs to brush my teeth, hair, and do all that other hygiene related stuff.

I returned to the basement, feeling refreshed and ready to kick ass, but had to pause as no clacking from the computer signaled Kyle working.

Now, I may take hour-long showers—and not for the reason you're thinking—but certainly, I wasn't gone too long. No, in fact, this shower was pretty short. Just about forty-five minutes, maybe thirty-five.

I hobbled down the steps, but gasped when I saw the tableau before me…

Stan, hooked up and stationary, beeping softly; arm unconsciously holding Kyle. The smaller boy, with the stains of brine clinging to his thinned out face, had his head rested over the beating heart of the raven. Shallow breaths puffed out, and his hands clutching the sheets demurely. 'Twas a sight to behold, if you ever saw one.

Real love… regardless of gender, age, race… all those silly things humans worry over.

There are times I pause and wonder why I do this crazy thing Damien asks of me, especially when it gets so tough… sometimes I don't care… and then, like instances right now…

I know why I can do what I do…

I… need to, with all my might, _protect_ this place. This plane, world, people…

There _is_ some good in this world.

My friends are a prime example… I smile secretly, despite this sad scene I must witness alone…

I finish my steps toward the bottom of the basement. I grab my blanket and shift Kyle to a comfy position. I throw it over the two and pray harder than I ever remember in my life… please, God, _please_… save them…

…

The sun was coming up in a suspended fashion. I walked without real purpose through the cold and blowing streets. I clutched my parka tighter to me, silver cross dangling from my neck and a holy gun in my back pocket keeping me safe. Salted streets were quiet, but the sounds of the colors breaking over the glittering mountains… now that made a symphony well from up in my heart.

Momma never raised no fool.

I knew to follow it. I knew the wind was pushing me to go places. I knew faith would work faster than bullets if I had to defeat the harbinger of demons. Damien happened to know something too. He mentioned Butters.

That's where I was headed. To my beloved… err, if he'd ever let me call him that I mean.

GAH! I'M A FUCKING DORK!

Hanging my head, I shuffled my feet on the pavement just below his window. Suddenly these damn tight Reboks appeared mighty fine under closer inspection… Sighing, I tilted my head upwards, not caring if a few flakes landed over my lashes, obscuring the view slightly.

I bent down and shifted the sands over the fake garden… eventually I found a couple of tiny stones. Tugging my right glove off with my teeth, I ignored the flash of dark burgundy staining my hand. Rolling the stones in my sweaty palm, the bits of ice chipped away. Exhaling shakily, I tossed up the pebbles.

They chinked across the cute little Victorian white panels. After a couple more tries, the curtain was pulled back. I dropped my arm, the rocks plummeting to the ground softly. A fuzzy, sleepy head popped out, followed by a curious call. Smiling widely, I waved ecstatically.

"Talk to me Buttercup! I've missed you!"

I waited about twenty minutes for the lad to get dressed and rush downstairs. I was sitting on the curb, fingering the tip of a bullet blessed by a priest. Tiny scripture was printed upon it—but I didn't know how to make it out.

"H-Hey, Kenny," the shy little guy greeted. I looked up, fuzziness growing in my lean stomach… which growled.

"I'm kinda hungry, why don't we talk over breakfast?" I question, reaching out my shivering hands. Pink fingertips graze over my palm and suddenly Butters' has his digits warmly encasing mine.

"Okay…" is the smiling answer.

We walk for a bit, reaching that diner at the edge of town. Goth kids and prissy vamps huddled inside, their heavy black cloths blowing in the air-conditioning building like raven wings. Instantly, I thought back to Damien. Shaking my head, cascades of gold litter my sight and I randomly walk over to a rounded table. Butters follows obedient, nails just barely scraping my numb skin.

Grounded coffee is being served at the counter (I smell that wonderful, hot and bitter concoction from a few feet away), and I can see another blondie, twitching as he takes a giant mug of the stuff and sips it, wild eyes glancing about. I blink as a blue-gloved hand is found flipping me off behind the counter. Throwing a smirk Craig's way, I pull my own blondie down next to me in a booth.

I suppose it's odd, but seeing others happy, creates a weird sense of self-assurance in me.

Like… I'm doing something right.

As Tweek beams bright, and Craig can't help but stifle a grin, my heart sort of shudders in my chest. I bend over the table, biting my lip, trying to let out a relaxing breath. Butters watches for a moment, sky orbs intense with worry. I just place his hand over my heart and wait.

"It's like a lullaby…" Butters whispers. I smiled, shaking my head.

"No… just… I guess it's my sense of purpose."

"What is it?" the boy asks. I snort; licking my lips and rolling my spine back.

"What's yours?"

There is a quiet as Butters places down his blue-checkered menu. I can't help but think his eyes are a lot brighter in contrast… For some reason as I contemplate the innocent in front of me, he never speaks, brows drawn in an unforeseen turmoil. Eventually I will stop staring as we order some food, and then begin to eat, and finally pay… leaving with nothing but the slight grazing our pinkies use as a continuous comfortable contact.

I have this floating and surreal feeling as we tip-toe over the ice-paved cement of his driveway. The fluffy little blonde leads me up his porch steps and tugging me through the unlocked cherry door of the mint house. So many sweet things in my mind remind me of him…

It's a weird attraction I never thought much of before… something that seemed distant, unreal… Butters and I, is what I am talking about. And now we are in Butter's room—the room I often sneak into to get back dry, warm clothes after my rebirth for the nth time.

I am pushed on his much too pillow-soft bed. I allow my body to descend, puffing, as my breath is hard to catch. Stitches are stretching my still-healing flesh. Biting my lip, I can't believe I halted Butters as he kneeled next to me. Shocked eyes blink down at me.

"Just… give me a minute? Okay…?" I plead.

Smiling, Butters nods and paces over to the bedroom door, pausing only to look back at me. Treacherously, I have to grin. Blushing, he scoots out the door. I wait until I hear him creak down the stairs. Only then do I do something that is extremely stupid. But, hey man, I am desperate.

I don't want him disgusted by my weak nature.

I heal my chest, focusing on my hands in the death grip of downy sheets rather than the agony clawing its fiery way over my heart. The string _poofs_ suddenly, a not so pleasant smell rising up.

Groaning, I slide onto the floor, nicking my exposed knee on something. I wince, glancing down, trying not to stir too much. It was only a book. My head lolls to the side, and I seize it without thought. The action stung and pain was dulling me, but my curiosity was peaked. I hummed, eyes running over the title, Encyclopedia Of Symbols. _Hm, I wonder why…_?

The tips of my wildly pulsing fingers came into contact with sticky notes in bright colors with chicken scratch written on them decorating the insides haphazardly. I flipped open the first one I could find…

HEARTS, EYES, COLORS, OWLS, WATER, BLOOD…

HOURGLASSES.

I am on my feet, flying it seems, down the stairs. I trip, my body launching and slamming down all the carpeted pea-green steps. The book lies with torn pages. Wind is rustling and I am hitting the walls, knocking picture frames down. They crash with such bright sounds of shattered glass. My palm smacks on the entry to the kitchen, breathing coming out shabby and harsh.

"No…" I whisper.

There stands the tall figure, flickering like the tempest winds and broken feathers. Against her lush body she holds the struggling figure of that lithe blonde boy. Her nails almost prick his smooth cheeks and Butters' is making little noises, hands clawing at her hold over his mouth and legs freely kicking.

"Let 'im go, Lilith," I warn, but my feet make no movement in fear.

"_He's so adorable," _she purs as if I never spoke, her Roman nose brushing aside tiny overgrown bangs so she can nuzzle his brow affectionately.

"You are battling _me_!" I shout, reaching out and fumbling behind me for my holy weapon. She laughs and moves faster than my eyes pick up. I shoot once, creating a hole in the kitchen window. Dogs are barking outside in such a frantic way, I curse, feeling the frosty air seep inside.

Circling all I see is the lights flickering. Absently, I realize I probably hit a cable box with my crappy aim.

"LILITH!" I screech. Nothing but maniacal laughing on the breeze… "Dammit… Dammit…! DAMMIT! DAMMIT! DAMN IT ALL TO HELL!" I collapse on to my knees. My head falls back and I am staring at the ceiling. _Are you serious, God? Are you? Are you really?_

"… Oh _**fuck**_ me…"

**TBC…**

**A/N:** Yup. I am evil. BWUAHAHA! Sorry about not updating in a while.

Life has gotten extremely busy…

And full of drama. So… Thank you all and I hope you enjoyed.

By the way… I have about a page to kill, so I am gonna ramble about stuffs…

Like lately, I have been on such a comic-book slash pairing kick. Lots of Marvel stuffies. Logan/Scott, Venom/Spidey, Erik/Charles, Gambit/Nightcrawler (I know right? Such a random pairing but they are pretty much my favorite X-men).

Not a lot of good Venom/Spidey ficlets. I recently went to LJ tho, for those who know what it is. Now I understand the obsession. I might cruse it more… but I am so busy… Jeezy.

It's my spring break (w00t!!1!) so I am getting a lot of manga I have had on my desk read (35 since roughly the end of November—thanks to the counting and keeping track of my Manda and Ann). I only have five left (ten of those don't count because I officially own them—my b-day being in Dec). So really only 25 I had to worry about finishing quickly… since they are Anna's.

Err, but anyways! My main point of this is that I am a big comic book geek. Mainly Marvel (downside to Marvel is the cross-overs and weird alternative realities within different series for characters—oh and then random aliens and other freaky ass stuff). DC is alright but it's not as… in-depth as Marvel is. Which I am now starting to wonder about…

My reading list now includes—DUN DUN DUN!—_**Watchmen**_. Saw the movie a while ago (BLUE MOVING PENIS) and I fucking _love_ Rorschach! (For those of you wondering what my friend Anna is like, and I why I am stressed about reading her manga, Anna essentially _**IS**_ Rorschach. And for those of you who know who I mention, you now understand my determination to finish her manga in a timely fashion, lol, ain't I lucky?). Aside from Dark Knight retellings of Batman, I haven't really cared much for DC. SUPER IS A PUSSY-BITCH!

Also, I hate Miss Marvel—SUCK IT ENRIQUE!

Speaking of whom, he would be extremely jealous to know I now have Zombie Venom attacking Zombie Spider-man as my background on my compy. Yes, there is a branch of Marvel comics focusing on the characters turning into zombies. Beautiful in a scary sort of way. I am a BIG zombie fanatic by the by.

I haven't been this into the characters since grade school. Must be because I have been talking too much to said bastard above who runs a comic store………….


	14. So What If This Funhouse Is Cracking?

**A/N:** MY COMPUTER IS WORKING AGAIN!!!

Here's a quick overview from the last six months of my life—computer shorts out. Cannot find spare parts. No one helps buy spare parts. Parents continue to be stingy. Computer tower is brought downstairs. Stays there for three months. Brought up stairs. Stays there for a few weeks. Secretly bought installation CD. Takes three days to fix and work. Last two weeks have been editing and churning out new chapters and ficcies. Tries to install Internet connect. Does not work. SteelAgainstIvory proudly declares, "FUCK THIS."

Am now updating Chapter Thirteen for Reap and Sow. The readers deserve it. Without further ado, here is my response to the loyal reviewers—if I sound kind weird, please forgive me. I've had a rough couple of months.

**loozje:** Oh man… I suck… I feel so bad when I read your review. My computer broke down a week after you sent me your comment. I'M SORRY I TOOK SO LONG!

**Bethany C. Mackenzie**: Actually, yeah, I did make her a little bit of a ho. LOL. I love you soooooooooo much right now. It's wonderful to know you love the story… I HOPE YOU STILL DO!

**Hot Monkey Brain**: Seriously. Get together with thequillofdestiny and have a baby. The combined name would be SWEET. You have NO idea how much I missed youuuuuuuu!

**Tikal Tyrant:** After reading your comment, my self-confidence plummeted to the depths of hell. Man, I suck so hard right now…

**thequillofdestiny**: Please read Hot Monkey Brain's reply. Same applies for you… except you can't really have your own baby………. But, enough of me making a bigger ass of myself! Oh, I wish I could chat with you for hours! Like, just, I MISSED THIS SOOOOOOOOO MUCH!!!

**Shady-chan**: Why thank you… um, I finally updated now?????

**Mizuki-no-neko:** Lol! Why are just too cute. I hope you enjoy the rest of the series. Man, I've FINALLY got my computer back to normal!

**CupcakeFairy:** -bursts into hysterical tears**-** OHMEHGWAAAAAAAAAD! I AM SO SORRY!!! I MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISSED EVERYTHING SO HAAAAARD!!!!!!!!! Anyways… uh, I am back, if you still wanna read that is???

**Warning:** Gay stuff. Lots of it. And random bits of … supernatural.

**Disclaimer:** Me love South Park long time! Me no own though… me sigh.

**Summary: **Things happen so fast, so pay attention to things including: Pink songs, Kenny's intelligence, Style, Divine intervention, Cartman _actually_ working, a cucumber, and Biblical quotes. I _think_ they might be important. Honestly though, it's the wackest chapter yet!

**Remember:**

"Blah" – Speech

_Blah_ –Thoughts

Blah – Self Explanatory

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………**.**

CHAPTER THIRTEEN— So What If This Funhouse Is Cracking?

Once upon a time in a faraway land, or so we have all been told, there lived a brave knight. In his shiny armor made of gold, he crossed deserts and mountains, fields and tundra, braving the elements—all to save his beautiful maiden who is held captive by an evil dragon. The knight will come, unsheathe his sword and raise his shield, fending off hellish flames from a snarling reptilian mouth, and eventually slay the beast. Then he climbs the steps of a worn and crumbling castle, finding the maiden sleeping in peace. Talking off his weighty helm, Prince Charming's face appears, and he'll bend down, place a kiss on the Princess's lips. She will awake. They will marry. Happily ever after…

…

Until you read the story again.

Then the bastard has to travel all the way back, fight off the monster, wake that ho, and get hitched to the burdensome bitch all over again. And again. And a-frickin'-gain.

Unfortunately, that crap doesn't work for ME!

Right now, I am stuck running around, grabbing fluttering papers from a torn encyclopedia, hysterically muttering under my breath. The only thing I can feel of my uncovered fingers is slush and paper cuts. How come I don't have some stupid easy task like riding a fucking horse?!

"Goddamit! Butters must have found something fucking important—why else would Lil—" I am interrupted in the frantic backyard search as I hear a key unlock heavily from inside the home.

Oh crapola… his parents are back!

I dash in through the swinging screen door of the back and manage to snatch up the mutilated book (thanks to my panicked flight for Butters when I originally found his notes littered in it). The door is starting its squeaky and much too sudden journey toward the wall, and I make a quick dive behind it.

I smash chest-first into the tangerine colored plaster. Breath is lost from my lungs so I don't have to worry about heavy, scared breathing giving me away to the two deadbeats strutting in the door. In fact, I'm a bit dizzy…

As soon as I see Butters' mom slink in, I spin about the door and outside in the nipping air. Mid-day gloom hung overhead appropriately and what was left of the heat of that sweet house disappear from my bones. The front door ominously slammed, jolting me down the porch steps in a hurry.

I ran the entire way back to Kyle's, clutching the shredded excuse of a book to my front in desperate hope.

…

"_A_ _fortune teller that says maybe you won't go to hell_…" Cartman is mouthing the words to a Pink's strangely soothing new song blaring from the basement of the Jew's home. I blink, standing there like a complete moron as Kyle is punching an excess of keys on his laptop, running a frustrated hand through his unruly fro of fire.

"Oh no no no no no NO!"

"W-What's going on?" I ask over tenor guitar strings echoing around the cluttered excuse of an HQ. Kyle's head whiplashes upwards, jade eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

"My computer crashed… I lost all my information. All the cases. Everything. _Gone!_ Hard drive went up in smoke!" through his gritted teeth he makes a strangled noise as he slams his hands on his desk. Cartman merely turns up the stereo stashed in a web-covered corner some more.

"_I'm not scared at all… of the cracks in the crystal ball_," he mumbles low. Eric has always been lucky enough to have a perfect baritone and mastery for pop songs. All I got on me is opera.

Huh. Weird thought. Isn't opera higher on the scale of singing…? Eh, never mind.

I jump suddenly as another song blasts on and Kyle shouts out, veins clearly protruding on his forehead. The fatass does the opposite and spins the volume dial up to the point where you can feel the bass smacking into your body. "Goddamit Cartman!" is the what rips out of him in such a fury, his computer clatters on the desk with the sweep of his arms.

"Get over it! It's keeping you from bawling!"

"Fuck you! My laptop just died!"

"Because you have been using it like an actual computer, dumbass! They aren't made for heavy duty work!"

"I fixed it with—"

"People design parts to break after a certain number of years! It's a way to make more money!"

"Gah! You're such a fucking cynic!"

I stop paying much attention to their argument, instead feeling an odd discomfort with the pop star's lyrics drumming across the room… _This use to be a funhouse! But now it's full of evil clowns! It's time to start the count down! I'm gonna burn it down, down, down! I'm gonna burn it down!_

I shudder, dropping the encyclopedia and it's pages on the now clean mahogany desk. My feet crunch on the random technological parts rolling along the floor. My eyes are focused on Stan, in his coma, twitching just slightly. What could cause that, I wonder, besides some deadly disease?

I pause in front of the cot.

The raven's eyes lids are fluttering in REM sleep in sync with the tempo of this particular song… The other one was just fine… maybe the sound is too much? But if that's true… wouldn't Cartman and Kyle's constant arguing do the same for him?

Or perhaps… it's the actual music. His dead mind is responding to it!

Could that mean we have a shot of waking him up now?!

I gasp and look back at the two arguing, faces red and pointing fingers.

"Hey…" I call out. My voice is lost amidst the chaos. Something inside of me growls. "HEY!" My voice—tenor cords, lucky me—broke the tension. Even the music seemed to split. My tattoo hand points over the shaking body of our friend. Kyle's eyes widen. Cartman stares, the music dying softly. "I think Stan is finally responsive."

"What…? No, no!" the redhead denies, sprinting over and grabbing the screens, reading them astonished, "But—But how, Kenny?!"

"Don't ask me how but I have an idea… turn up the damn music and push play!"

Cartman has the prissiest look I've ever seen as he pushes Stan's bed over toward a more lighted area. Kyle's footsteps could be heard thudding from the door of the cellar. His mom has a screechy voice, demanding us not to be too loud. Ha. Right. Us? Loud? Ya gotta be kidding me!

Um, that was sarcastic.

Kyle has returned, a look one his face that says so much to me in so little time; thoughts of hope and broken hearts and fear and love and worry and… pennies of pennies of millions of dollars of all sorts of thoughts. As he hands me a microphone and I ruffle his hair, turning his visage away from mine. I can't look at him without breaking.

I sigh. Kyle has plugged in the microphone to the sound system. Stan's bed is set at the tip of a pentagram we drew in blue chalk. Blue, in hopes of healing. Blue like his eyes… _Forgive me for getting distracted, but I'll need all the help I can get to rescue you._

I stand in the middle. Cartman is behind me and to the left. Kyle has placed himself in the right triangle next to the lard-ass. I fingernails scratch the slate colored plastic covering of the mic. I breathe deeply, contracting my lungs and keeping them like that when breathing out. A feeling of apprehension grips me as I have no idea what I am doing. I can't heal _others_… well, I never tried to at any rate. Never thought that I _could_.

Butters gave me this idea though.

"Ya know, Tolkien had a creation myth—angels of God sang the universe into existence. Must have been a beautiful dream of his… I would like to think maybe that's how this all works…" I said, ignoring my voice bouncing around the walls and mixing with a sweet song playing a second time.

"_Irony, irony is hating love. Hating love!"_

I hum along, "For what it's done to me…"

This brilliant idea is to sing. Yes, _sing_, bitches. I heard once that song lifts the spirit. Let's hope that phrase rings true.

A tension begins, rising up from inside of me and spilling out. Shit. I _**really**_ have no idea what I am about to do… The song starts with a bump and repetitive beat. The redhead flicks on the sound to maximum volume. A blush spreads across my face.

I am a complete idiot.

Oh well… Fuck it!

Believe or suffer, I've learned.

Before I realized, I am spitting out the lyrics and grinning, body tapping and swaying in time. An invisible energy is swimming around us. I can feel the floor pulsate pleasingly. Blue chalk flashing behind my lids, bright and electric.

I can't even hear the singer in the background anymore. My eyes are closed, but I can feel the excitement in the air. Its taunt and Stan's body is stressed, seemingly moving along with me. A chorus throws me over the proverbial edge and I lose it. All of me is pouring out, my soul escaping lyrically. I can feel a laugh inside of me bubbling out.

Something is drawing never. The end—or the beginning. Either way. It feels like I've missed this. A part of me… is overjoyed. Ecstatic. Thrilled!

My eyes snap open and I am counting it down…

"9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1… _Fun_!"

A bright light has enslaved the entire room. I don't even notice I am floating, my hair trailing like golden silk in the ocean. Clothes snapping against me like in a whirlwind. I can feel it. Steady and thrumming with me. Stan's spirit, I mean.

Somehow I see it inside him, blocked by dripping chains—struggling for help. His eyes beckon with me. I nod. My hand snaps out forward. The marking on it is flaring up intensely. Like there is an actual fire licking upwards and out… Fire is cleansing in certain religions.

Ah… I get it…!

"_This use to be a funhouse! But now its full of evil clowns! It's time to start the count down! I'm gonna burn it down, down, down_!"

Flames erupt—slimy, spiritual chains raising a hellish green, lowering into orange. Stan's spirit jerks upward, grimacing and breaking away. Falling into his body, a shiver travels through him, gray pungent smoke spiraling upwards. Blinding light disappears kindly as I utter my last lines…

_I'm gonna burn it down._

I land on the floor in an instant and the sound of a crack rips the area in two. Something like a scratching record occurs and Cartman panics. He dashes over to the stereo while my hand tiredly flops down to my side. I feel heavy and woozy at the same moment. Kyle stumbles past me, casting back a look I don't understand.

Cartman wails pathetically, holding up his beloved Pink CD that is now broken into perfect halves. He shakes it in my face like a mad man and I just step back a bit, letting the cycle of inhaling oxygen and releasing carbon dioxide develop into an even pace, lids falling to half-mast.

"Stan! Stan!" the Hebrew genius is breathing against the face of his friend. Cartman is still yelling at me in curses, but I side step him, cocking my head to the other side in order to watch at the other two occupants in the room. "Hey, c'mon, wake up… wake up…!"

"Kiss him now," I instruct. Kyle gasps, raising his shoulder as he spins back to me. I bob my head as his pale faces flushes worse. Eric has grabbed my shoulder, brows drawn in a vexed way.

"Dude! What are you—?!"

"That's how you wake up the sleeping princess when you save her from the dragon," I answer, voice lower that a murmur. Cartman's expression goes slack as he stares. I throw him a pitying look. His hand drops away and he moves back away, somewhere to a corner and sits down profoundly.

I return to Kyle, who has now focused his eyes solely on Stan's dry lips. His face is a deeper red than even his hair color. With quivering hands, my friend slips his pads across the grazed surface of Stan's face. Kyle exhales, leaning down, letting his eyes shut peacefully. A phrase is mumbled in an old language…

I can hear the cords of something play softly in the background for them… and lips are met in the sweetest music here on earth or above in heaven. Silence.

I am smiling, its small, and it hurts—but it's honest.

Kyle backs up, eyelids fluttering. He waits… face pleading… and a breath, light as you please, brings Stan's chest up, face tilting. A half-sob is released from Kyle as his love graces him with open eyes. Dark and shining, they close and his arm reaches up around the frail neck, pulling down the genius for another taste.

My shoulders slump, and I am staring at the messy cement flooring emptily. I shove my hands in my jean pockets and I leave without a sound. I do not hear words thrown my way from anyone—Kyle's parents, Cartman, the passers by on the streets.

No one…

My feet just keep on moving in the slush. Converse shoes kicking about with no discrimination. _I should more than likely get another brand of shoe_, I think randomly. These are much too thin for cold weather play.

I have no idea where I am when I finished dilly-dallying until swooshing doors interrupt my mind. Blankly, I comprehend I am at a bookstore. I forgot which one. Probably corporate from the neat racks and sells pitching tables. Big posters and many things not connected to reading are perched on shelves next to the cashiers. Best for impulse buys.

Walking by an indoor coffee shop, I am gazing about idly. Light from the setting sun is streaming in bolts. It falls haphazardly from the glass windows obstructed by blinds and racks and other such items.

Ironically a beam streams in, illuminating the rows for philosophy and religion. I decided, why not? I head for it, lazily searching with my eyes, ignoring the heart stinging inside of me. In stead, I focus on all the objects surrounding me.

There are so many books! So many words… _too_ many… It's hard to grasp… Very hard… English, Spanish, German, Japanese—all with words. Everything—and hitherto not. Right here. In this store. And many others. Everywhere. All over the place!

Ha! Some people think they got it right and publish it. Others are full of questions. Still yet, there are those just wanting to be heard. And then the countless that only wish to speak. I stand in this lonely aisle, gazing 'round and thinking to myself greedily. I never noticed the stretched out hand in my face until a boisterous voice dragged me out.

I blink and look down stupidly. A pudgy young lady is standing there awkwardly. She's short, maybe 5'1 at the most. "'Scuse me," she lilts with an androgynous childlike voice. It reminds me of him as she stares with azure eyes, "But could you please get me that book?"

Her white hand reaches up and points, her leather black jacket lifting a bit to reveal a plain white spaghetti top underneath. "The Harry Potter is Jesus one?" I question, lifting for it. She vehemently shakes her strawberry-blonde head with strange blue highlight at the ends.

"Gah! Screw HP!" she cries out. It makes me laugh and I step back as she rocks on her heels. I notice under her baggy coffee pin-stripe pants she also wears some (incredibly worn and dusty) red converse. "No, the book on symbols in the bible."

I grab it for her and offer it out. She takes the item gingerly, and I see curled under her left arm is the newest Loveless manga. It causes me to smirk. "Are you are yaoi otaku?" I tease. She frowns, blush traveling over her freckled face.

"Don't judge me monkey!" she warns and sets her manga over her big book. I shrug but her curious face makes me pause. I felt like I sorta knew her from somewhere… "How do you know about that anyway?"

"I've read a few," I answer lightly. I won't say they are the only ones I have really read.

"This is the place you come more often?" she asks with all bright smiles and glances about the religion section.

"No… not really. Just stumbled in here today…" I shrug uselessly.

"I see," she delicately said. She pulls down her shirt and swipes at one eye. The resemblance to Butters is startling, and my features twist horribly in my heart's agony, but I push it away from me fast. It still manages to catch her eye. "Are you alright?"

"No," I spilled out without thinking. I don't even know why. "No. I'm not."

"Want a frappiccuno?" she inquired unexpectedly with fervor, almost leaping at me. It caused me to jump. She giggled and held up a tiny card. "Caramel frappiccunos make me feel better all the time. I have just enough for two more ventis!"

"I… uh… sure…?"

It took a bit, (okay, tons of lying) but I basically explained my situation. No clue as to the reason, but I felt _so_ much better. She listened intently and nodded and said a few things appropriately. It helped me more than I can dare say. I sat, chewing on my lip as she slurped up more of her drink (truthfully it was gone, but she kept on at it anyway). Mine was barely touched.

"Now I just… don't understand anything anymore!" I complained and slumped over in the hard plywood chair.

"Hmm…" the strange girl narrowed her almond eyes, obviously debating something.

"What can I do now? I've lost all hope," I continued, moaning into my hands, feeling the air condition waft down my backside. The girl shook her head at me with a quiet frustration.

Finally, as I picked up my beverage the girl spoke.

"I could say many things right now, Kenny. Things on faith, love, determination, on so on and so forth… But I can't because, in the end, I don't think it really matters. Honestly, for a writer, I am no good with words," she laughed easily and placed her empty cup onto the hard table decorating in chessboard style. "All I can say is… so what?"

"So… what?" I parroted dumbly. She stuck out her tongue and nodded.

"So what?" she intoned, "The world is full of all these depending situations. But so what? Do what you have to. What makes you happy." She shrugged and stood suddenly. I blindly moved to her will.

"B-But…!"

"Listen!" she roughly sighed, "If you want your friend back, you have two options. Go find him or wait. Or do neither. Or do both. I dunno! Again! So what? It's up to you."

"I…"

Words weren't coming. Strangely enough… this odd backward logic made sense to me.

"Okay…" I said at last. I sipped up my melted drink. I could feel an impulsive smile on my face.

So what about Lilith? About my hourglass? About God? About Hell? About anything! I don't care for that! I care for Butters. And my main priority is getting him back, safe and sound and in my arms where he _belongs_!

I have gone to the door and flung it open. I halted abruptly and swung around, searching for that odd young woman but... I blink, as I can't find her. Like… she disappeared! GASP!

Could she have been…?

Then someone taps me on the shoulder.

Shrieking, I rotate on my toes like a ballerina. That's when I see the short little lady pouting at me. "Dude! How the fuck did you do that?! I didn't even see you sneak up!" I point my index digit stupidly at her. She slaps it away without care.

"I dunno. Just happens. I am kinda use to it by now," she almost bragged. I chuckle like an idiot. Then I clasp her hands and squeeze gently, she gives me one back but harder.

"Thanks…" I say it like whispered prayer.

"NP, my friend. No problem… Its what I do." Her response reminds me of a forgiving pastor.

Again I dash off. She waves goodbye the whole time I am running back to my friends…

…

The door to the attic is almost ripped off as I bang through, stumbling down the steps. Cusses at thrown at me from Kyle's mom, I ignore as my feet swing back and kick up my sneakers. I launch myself over the blocky wooden rail, shouting out, "Butters got kidnapped and I need to know why!"

The torn up, rubbery soles smack the ground and I land in a crouch, feeling my legs tingle from the slight jump. Kyle and Stan gasp and their faces shoot up from his cot. Cartman is tinkering around with the broken laptop, but he looks over at me steadily, waiting.

"We have to speak with someone—anyone—who might understand Lilith's motivations," I puff out, raising my spine slowly. Kyle just shrugs and Stan cocks his head to the side, racking his brain. Who would have thought what happened next?

"What about that water demon?"

The three of us turn to that bulky Eric Cartman, pushing around screws on the scratched desk. "What?" he asks a bit heatedly, but genuinely confused. I blink, shaking my head.

"T-That's… actually a really good idea."

…

There was a speedy pit stop—that's what life seems to be for me recently. Pits stops. Go here. Die. Rise over there. Kick ass some place else. Pause for Mickey D's, meet someone, die again. Live real hurriedly before death in another assignment… Sighs.

Well, this pit stop was Jimbo's Warehouse of Marvelous Anti-Evil Supplies! Pick up a weapon or two, stash a few holsters, cock a few riffles, and look hot while doing so (insert flexing here while anime theme music plays).

Cartman sped Stan's poor, abused truck down some deserted traffic streets. Save for a few clunky Honda's honking at us, we made the trip in relative easiness. The hair on the back of my neck was bristling, just waiting for some surprise attack—none pursued. Stan was huffing in the backseat, obviously not use to his own body weight yet.

"I gotcha…" Kyle whispered and hooked his shoulder under the raven's arm. The taller nodded and leaned against his friend, closing his eyes with a sigh… not too long after the fatass swerved the vehicle up on the snow bank of Stark's Pond.

"Everyone out or die," he ordered, jabbing his thumb toward the iced-up water. I laughed in a barking fashion and skee-daddled out of the passenger side as fast as a kid going to a candy store. I was practically skipping past the police tape flapping in the air… Hard to believe two weeks have passed since Pip… I was blinking back salt water, staring faraway.

If I don't know where he died exactly, how can I put flowers down?

"Kenny!" Stan's scratchy voice—a distant memory of sensory flooded my brain—snapped my attention back. I turned and nodded. "The demon's still alive. Hovering somewhere, dunno where though, it's mixing with our emotions."

"Ha! NP, guys, I know a way to get the fugly bastard to pop out," I called over my shoulder, fishing into my pockets.

"NP?" Cartman echoed, glancing at the two huddled together by the edge. Kyle shrugged and Stan shook his head. I stuck out my tongue, ignoring my cotton orange mittens catching on the rough jean fabric as I tugged out a plastic grocery bag. Crying in triumph. It slipped out, swinging wildly as I tried grabbing the bag. Needless to say, it shot out of my reach, rolling around in the fluffy white puffs of snow.

The ice surface shuddered for a moment. Everyone stilled instantly.

Then a cracking could be heard, starting from behind me. My eyes widened. "_Hooooo_ damn…!"

Instantaneously, as soon as I begin sprinting for my life, a figure leaps up from under the hoarfrost, spraying me with chips of splintered ice. Cartman whirls around as I drum roll for the item in the bag and the demon crashes back gracefully down deep into the pond.

"Shit, dude!" Kyle yells as he and Stan scramble back, the empath shrugging up a pistol and spinning the barrel. "What the hell is that thing?!"

"A demon!" I retort cockily. Cartman chuckles darkly, clicking open a small container on his belt. He chose to be armed with an assortment of throwing knives and machetes. Sort of a sick bastard if ya think of the reasons why…

"I meant the fucking thing in the bag!" the genius shrieks as the ground below us wavers. My converse suddenly becomes soaked and I yelp as the ice gives way under my left foot.

I throw myself to the right, rounding my shoulder in order to land safely. I am caught off guard when I feel a steely grip around my cradled torso. Drips of water plink down onto my forehead, where wisps of hair fall across my vision. "Ahh shiiiiit…"

"**Cucumber**!" a guttural voice, sounding obsessive, declares. "MINE!"

I can feel the restriction around me tauten; not realizing the splashing of artic water is seeping into my jacket at an acerbated rate similar to the creature's breathing. Just when I thought I would have been fish food, a _**bang!**_ rang out, causing the demon to jerk back—effectively letting me go.

On instinct I take in a deep breath of mountain air—I shouldn't have, because I've been launched into a more solid ground. The force makes my lungs stagger and I see spots of neon colors tango behind my lids.

My name is repeatedly hammered into my ears as Kyle surges forward, Stan left panting, but up-right (ish) on the pond side. Cartman is just gaping in awe the entire time the empathic teen blows on the nuzzle of the gun before putting it back in it's position in it's shoulder holster. _Fuck… no wonder he leads us—err, well, most of the time._

"W-Where's the demon?" I question, aware I should be getting up. Kyle glances back. We notice Cartman stalking to the twitching black mass on the floor. The brunet speedily yanks it up and shoves it into the nearest tree. A bulky hand reaches for a pocket—me and Kyle look away, but the wet splat and piercing scream is still heard like a pin dropping in an empty ballroom.

Kyle tugs me up and I hobble over, tossing off my useless jacket. It's wet and freezing and if I don't shed it before exacting info it will only hinder our quest. The shoes though, I'll have to ignore until we are back in the car.

"You're gonna tell us what we want to know about Lilith!" Eric screams, saliva flying in the flat face of the water demon. Taking a good look, it reminds me of the creature from the Black Lagoon. But facial features distinctly more human—Asian almost. The difference is the eyes… huge, pale opal blue framed by the wet, straw colored hair.

"Give up the original mother? NEVER!" the thing screeches. That sadistic bastard would have twisted one of the blades pinning the demon to the pine tree, had I not pushed him aside and waved a cucumber as if a weapon.

"Don't you want your treat?" I tease. Those odd eyes go glassy and gaze longingly at the veggie in a dog-like way.

"Cucumber…? Did you get that idea from—"

"Yup, the kappa," I interrupt Kyle inquiry before it finishes. I point the food directly at the demon. "Now listen bub—"

"I am a female," it hisses suddenly. I choke, face going white. It was just so…so ugly! In the background one could hear Cartman choke on something that could have been a guffaw, Stan merely sways in his stance, leaving Kyle to just tilt his head to the side.

"Really?" the techie asks.

"O-Okay then!" I say, not willing to let that game continue, "Listen up bitchzilla! I don't care about loyalty among demons, humans, angels—whatever! I will give you this damn snack if you just tell me where Lilith resides!"

"B-But… But!" it twitches. I cock an eyebrow. The cucumber is dangling in my garish fingernails. With a snarl the demon lurches forward. "_Her house sinks down to death, and her course leads to the shades. All who go to her cannot return and find again the paths of life_!"

Cartman scoffs, "It's from Proverbs! 2:18-19."

"What's it mean?" I stare, amazed.

"Haven't a clue… what about you, Genius Jew?" the asshole pointedly nods to said genius.

We look at Kyle, he stammers for a second, "O-Oh, it's a warning. Scholars make connections to Lilith from it… Just telling you not to get involved."

"Wonderful," I snort, glaring back at the demon who starts fidgeting to the food, "You did your bit! Now give us exact directions!" It whimpers, protesting, but when I make to withdraw the cucumber, it starts cussing.

"FINE! FINE!"

"Now tell us where!" I demand. Growling the head lifts, almost as if salvaging pride.

"Lilith fled long ago, awaiting entrance to Sheol… She resides in what is left of the tower of Babel, south in what you humans perceive _ancient Israel_, Babylon! However…" the creature's tongue, forked and dripping with brackish blood, has flicked out toward me, "Human eyes cannot see it… I can remedy this situation."

"My eyes are mine for the keeping," I respond, throwing the vegetable at her face. Scowling, the demon tries reaching for the food, which has bounced to the ground. It's still pinned to the tree tight. I turn to my friends and nod. "Come on, back to the Holy Land…"

"W-Wait! Y-You can't leave me! You don't even know the way!" the thing's objections are hurled into us, bounding past me like the winds.

"Doesn't matter! I'll find my own way!" I shut my eyes and lean my neck back, talking toward the heavens. I can feel the crunching steps of my friends close in about me as we steadily make our way back to that navy Toyota.

"YOU'RE HUMAN!"

"I'm starting to think opposite…" I murmur. All I hear back is an enraged shriek.

**TBC…**

**A/N:** I think this is the perfect place to end for some reason… Review???

Titles for this chapter could have been,

"Of Nothing, Everything, and Something."

"The Chapter that Moves Like A Raptor"

"Inalienable Rights Overrule"

"Back In Orange"


	15. An Epic Battle Journey

**A/N:** The next chapter will, in fact, be the last. I have warned you all! –tears-

**Warning: **Gay stuff. Lots of it. And random bits of … supernatural.

**Disclaimer:** Me love South Park long time! Me no own though… me sigh.

**Summary:** It's going down in the chapter, so ya better pay attention! We got mysticism, religious references via music, allusions and parodies of JRR Tolkien's LOTR triliogy, one complete TOS occurrence, and a bit of scariness from SAI's own mind. This chapter is going to be more dramatic the newest ABC series, _Once Upon A Time_—and that's saying somethin'.

**Remember:**

"Blah" – Speech

Blah –Thoughts

Blah – Self Explanatory

…

CHAPTER FOURTEEN—An Epic Battle Journey Of Which Tolkien Would Be Jealous

Did you know you could get a sexual disease from camels?

Yeah. I'm not fucking kidding. My pops told me when I was, like, fourteen. We were watching one of the new MUMMY movies by that one bastard who likes special effects almost as much as Michael Bay. What's his name? Oh, Stephens Sommers! Except he likes fake animals and people and shit instead of EXPLOSIONS. Digressing—I was informed you could somehow get something like hepatitis. Ever since, I have avoided camels and petting zoos. And Angelina Joe Lee with her huge, fugly-ass camel lips. Gah! I shiver just thinking about it!

Soooooooooooooooooooooo, who the FUCK can explain why I am riding a clomping camel in the middle of hot as hell Bum-Phuck, Egypt?

Alright, not Egypt really. Or Bum-Phuck. We're somewhere. Kyle knows exactly where.

"Where are we?" I called out, gingerly holding the reigns on my—disease-infested—camel. The redhead a few feet ahead of me didn't even turn around as he sat with his numerous scrolls and maps and papers wafting about him.

"About fifty meters—" Cartman began to sigh somewhere behind me. He would complain about the heat pretty soon. Stan and I had timed it to about every five minutes and seven seconds. Kyle kept blabbing; I ended up just shrugging off the sweat building up around my face. I probably should have ditched the parka, but it's kinda my thing.

"Too damn hot to caaaaare!" Eric whined. Stan and I traded smirks while Kyle scoffed. "When do we stoooooop?"

"Now ask when the sun goes down!" I requested. Cartman practically screeched in impatience, startling his camel pretty badly. He went flailing, tumbling head first over the carrier animal. I erupted into laughter, but was cut off when I realized my camel was shifting nervously and making frightened braying noises as well. Actually, glancing around, all the camels seemed unwilling to move further. "Wuh-WHOA!"

I soon joined Cartman on the sandy and rather unforgiving floor. Rolling over, I scrambled to get a hold of the mangy animal, but it fled too fast into the desert. The tinkering of our weapons could be heard, shaken free from the camels. "Ah! Ahhh… damn…" I shook my head, pulling down the parka top in frustration. Stan and Kyle were gathering up what the camels left behind.

"Thanks a lot, fat ass! You scared off the camels!" the genius of our group accused, tossing a pack of daggers. Cartman ducked, cussing aloud. I sighed, dusting myself off. Stan was busy staring past me. Curiously, I turned my head to follow him.

"Hey, guys… I don't think that it was Cartman…" Stan said. I looked back at the sweating raven. "I think we're getting close to the entrance of a half-way world."

"So we're close to the tower of Babel?" I question. Kyle shakes his head; he pulls out an old roadmap and a couple of notebooks.

"No, what we're close to is a gateway between two planes of existence," Kyle clarified. I step closer to see the scribbles of his papers. "I've been formulating a theory here. Now, bare with me, Kenny, but between the four of us, the only person here who is going to see this gateway if gonna be you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you," he answered, "You are going to have to open this gateway too."

"Okay, now you're just fucking with me," I roll my eyes and begin to walk away but the Jew yanks me back.

"Ken, I… trust me, I know you have no idea what's going on with you… but I also know you're really worried about Butters. The only way to get him back is to open this portal in front of us." Kyle always talked softer than any other person I knew. He has this heartfelt way about him. The redhead seemed to know when to use it. Apparently it was now.

"I don't see a gateway," I responded, but let his grip hold me. It was comforting to be touched by someone who cares for you, not because they wanted sex, but because they felt for you.

"You will. Between the hours of midnight and three am… You'll see…" he amended. I took in a breath and held it. I nodded once. Kyle let go and it seemed to strengthen me. My feet took me a few paces in front of my friends as they readied for the doubtless battle that would begin.

We waited for the nightfall. The cool of the night embraced me and I unzipped my parka, letting the air hit me square in the chest. Stars were winking down on me. An odd thought dawned upon me… One of the things Butters told me about was Venus… What was it he said?

…

_I was so content; I hadn't grasped the fact I was humming again. Not until Butters had to comment. "You were singing that before I got to you too. What song is it? It's very beautiful. I l-like your voice."_

_I had snicker quietly to myself. I sped up our circling pace a bit. I had to think of an answer._

"_Uh," I began stupidly, "I ain't sure. Sometimes I just kinda… sing."_

"_Why?" he questioned. I felt him grow closer to me._

"_It… helps…" I said, my brows wrinkling._

"_Helps what?"_

"_Dunno. Just helps me. Sometimes I just hum. Other times it's words. I'll beat out a tune. It calms me down. I don't really do it in public. I'm not too great at it," I humbly tried. Butters spun around in my arms suddenly. My feet glided to a sudden halt. My reaction was to glance down at the boy who I knew was in my arms._

"_I read for my Brit Lit class during the summer that JRR Tolkien had a thing for music," he said. I remained silent, very confuzzled by this topic. Butters sighed and relaxed his hands. "He has a cosmological myth known as the Music of the Ainur."_

"_Cosmo-who-does-me… wha?"_

"_I-It's a myth of c-creation basically…" Butters explain self-consciously, "In Tolkien's world Eru is the name of God and with a host of angels, called Ainur, they sung the worlds into being. I-In fact, did you know that his famous star of Earendil is known as both the evening and morning star? The star is a-actually Venus. In my summer class, my teacher found it funny because in Christian theology, the morning star is the nickname God gave to his favorite angel… which… was… Satan… err, did I-I lose you somewhere K-Kenny?"_

"_Yeah, but that's okay," I mumbled, massaging my forehead._

"_Really sorry… Y-You just reminded m-m-me of t-that," he tripped over his words. It caused me to grin as I let my fingers trail down his tiny hands._

"_Why is that?" I inquired._

"Tolkien said the Ainur should be recognized as gods themselves for they were beings of the same order. Beauty, power, and majesty…I-I also like the think that they represented l-love as well," his voice drifted off as my face became enflamed.

…

I was staring out at the desert landscape, feeling the heat of the day rise up against my sneakers between the holes. I breathed deep, letting my clothes be tugged by an invisible cold wind. It was getting darker than we were use to. Far from the light pollution of the cities, the sky began to amaze me. The vast surrounding of nighttime crawled about our small campsite. It was unnerving at best. Even Kyle, the smartest and most levelheaded, was feeling the effects of being surrounded by shadows. Atheists stand tall, walking about in business suits, believing in nothing. No Gods, Devils, or otherwise. I can understand why… humans, as soon as we were able, found ways to clear the dark and unknown away. Fires, lamps, and eventually, electrical light. There is a primal fear of the dark. All things feral and much more powerful than ourselves lurk in these places.

I almost envy people who do not believe. They feel secure at night. But then again, they know no better, blanketed by their certainty in nothingness.

I sigh, feeling an unknown change in the air around me. My friends looked up, nodding. "Are you all ready?" I question. Stan flips on an amp. The easiest way to open any doorway is always the secret passwords…

Apparently, music works best.

"_Forgive me my sins_!"

A pulse in the ground erupted under me. I shifted in the sands, kneeling down to keep my balance. The dunes were rising. A steady power cord of guitars rained down upon the landscape. "_Here is the darker side of me_!"

"_Pray for me because I have lost my faith in holy wars…"_

The words rang out, sending shivers over my body nonstop. I grasped my hands together, as if in prayer. I could hear Kyle barking orders at Cartman through my headset mic. They were increasing volume. The speakers were close to blowing out. The ground kept sprouting higher, rippling under our feet, sand flew all around me…

I didn't have that much longer, and from a small, flickering part inside of me, I felt a heat rising. Strong and proud. It was unlike anything I had felt before. Dormant, lingering… Always waiting to be used, but until this morning, I couldn't muster the reasons to use it. There are so many unanswered questioned about myself.

I wonder if it mattered in this moment?

My eyes, bluer than most, opened and saw the splendid ancient pillars of the infamous Tower of Babel. I steeled my nerve. There was web working, a cracking in the thin veil between worlds; I saw it clearly traveling around us. If need be… I could shatter it to a million pieces.

"Oh my… S-Stan, do you see—"

"Yeah, we see…"

And so I shall. I breathed in deep, "_How can blood be our salvation…_?"

There was a pulsing, bright crimson that split the surroundings. There was a ripping sound, and the speakers around us sparked. Electric blue bolts caught into the air. There was a shift suddenly, and before we lost all power, I belted as loud as I could into the microphone—_forgive me my sins_.

Finally, like glittering glass shards, I breached the veil, throwing us into the halfway world. It grew dark, and a flood aof soft cherry colored light blurred our visions. By the time I shook my head clear we stood before black gates and a high tower.

All was quiet, barren and rocky, with no moon and no stars. Everything was awash in slate gray, ash, and pitch, and tar. The world was curved around this place, and a pitiless wind cut through us. I could hear laughter, mocking and shrill, echo faintly about us. There could only be one person who would laugh in such a hopeless place. I glared at the dank nothingness, almost as if I could glare directly at her. Maybe, in a weird way, I was.

"Is this the place…?" Cartman asked, for once understanding the gravity of the situation. He was not the bravest of my friends, nor the smartest, yet he was still there, behind me. Even for his selfishness, he came. I would like to count that for something.

"Yeah, I guess it is," I said. Kyle came up beside me, Stan hovering behind him protectively.

"Hey fatass," the redhead started, staring straight ahead as if mesmerized. Cartman hummed, drawing out his daggers and inspecting the sharpness. "I know it doesn't work like this, but since we're literally _in_ the supernatural… can you tell us what future you forsee? We win, right?"

Cartman glanced up, his muddy eyes tracing up the impossible heights of the ink-stone tower. For a second, there was a flash of wavering emotion on his normal impish expression. He squeezed his eyes tight and dropped his head with a sigh. With a few shakes, he said, "It's too much like a Magic-8 Ball. Ask Again Later."

"Psh! Of course…" Kyle muttered. There's a metal bat that he twirls in his palm (it had been blessed by a priest before we set off on this quest), readying for the unknown ahead of us. "Nobody wants us to know the outcome. Lilith must be hoping to scare us off."

"I don't think so," I gulp, and turn back to see my friends lugging huge, unused weapons. It gives me pause. It startles me. I've known these boys my whole life. Despite the trouble we get into… we—well, they—are supposed to be good kids. It was my fault, somehow, that whatever end-time-gifts I have infected my friends. Since I understood that about myself, they've been doing their best to help me stop the horrors of this shadowed human realm. It wasn't fair to ask them to risk their life and limb for something that was my task, and mine alone.

Stan, who could feel the pain and emotions of others. He would physically know of all the hardships each one of us will face in the Tower.

Kyle, who is the smartest, the most technical of us all. Never having to fight, knowledge can't keep him out of harm's way, not without trail and error.

Eric Cartman, the one who could tell me what was coming next. He was going into this battle blinder than a bat outta hell.

"Guys… I…" I said, feeling my heart catch, "I'm sorry. You can't come with me." I wanted to say more, but my tongue dried out, and it was almost hard to breath. "The future of this fight is too uncertain."

Kyle glanced over to Stan, who nodded in response, turning to Cartman. That large body swayed forward, so he could clasp a beefy hand on my shoulder. "_Some_ things are certain," he replied.

There was a look in his eyes that made mine widen. Cartman… did he… lie before? Briefly, had he caught sight of an outcome that held something unpleasant? Unbearable? What would cause him to lie…? Perhaps, in such a dismal place, one of us will not return? If so, would my friends still go willingly into doom?

I look to each of them, and the words cannot be found to ask them such a question. But, with veiled eyes of navy blue, emerald green, and dark brown, I see their unspoken answers. They've made peace with this possible fate before I could figure it out.

"There is no hope here," Stan sadly parodied my mind aloud. Kyle's grip on his bat grew tighter, and I heard the skin on his fingers squeak against cool metal. Cartman let go of me, closing his eyes, like he was trying to escape saying anything in addition. For a clear and conscious space of time, Cartman was like anyone else, and I felt for him. How silly it was for me to think Cartman wasn't so brave. I suppose, he was just fearless in different ways than I.

I face the Tower, standing taller than I have ever had to in my whole life. "No… There is no hope." Stunned silence was behind me. The hard, dark soil under my feet rumbled. That mirth of that demon bitch's voice grew even louder. "But we shall met her in battle nonetheless!"

There was a cock of a shotgun and the whistle of the blistering wind. Death surrounded us, the smell of it seeping up from the ground. It is hard to imagine, but death is a sickly sweet smell. It's a cruel trick of nature, the sweetest, most tempting smell, comes from death. I asked the figure of it once, why it smelled so sweet. A laugh, like bones rattling, responded coyly, "To put you at ease. Everyone fears death… but death is a path we all must take."

Well, it is a path I have traveled often. Hell and Back Again. That's the story of my life and afterlife. The marking on my hand burns and throbs as if scorched into me. With this accursed thing… I am unable to return to the land of the living. To the human realm. This could be the end of my strange and marvelous time. A real, true, honest death. Still, I have known the personification of Death.

"I do not fear death…" I growl. All I am armed with is a specially made demon-slaying samurai sword strapped to my back.

With steady steps, I march, possibly for the last time, into the land of sorrow. Into a confusing tornado of outraged shrieks, I push open the black gates to the courtyard set before the Tower. My lengthy, choppy hair snapped against the violent wind; the crunch of pebbles and bones reverberate from our uneven tempo of footsteps. Poisonous green flames leapt from the sconces as we pass by them, undeterred. Shadows undulate, breathing a sordid and filthy life to the dead landscape encompassing us.

We reach the entrance, and I sneak a peak over my shoulder. I shut my eyes, taking a deep lungful of smoky air. "I will understand if any of you want to wait for me here…"

"Just shut up and lead the way," Kyle quipped. Stan chuckled behind him. Cartman had a pensive look on, like he was debating my offer. In the end, he shrugged, waving his hand uncaringly forward.

"Go on. Get going, Macbeth," he blurted out, bored, "Let us save the fair lady Eowyn from the Tower and be done with it."

"Eowyn?" Stan parroted, confused.

"Yeah, from the Shakespeare play_. Oh Macbeth! Oh Macbeth! Wherefore art thou?_ It was in that one Peter Jackson movie… No?"

"There was so much wrong with that analogy, I-I don't even know where to begin," the Jew gave a ragged sigh. I smiled at my hapless friends. They might not be much to most people, but to me, they count. I do not think I could do this without them.

…

We had climbed endlessly, for what seemed like hours. Although we were gun-ho when we entered the Tower, we had to slow our pace. My legs were aching, and my breath kept coming in short. Cartman was almost a puddle of sweat and profanity. Stan was leaning against a banister, huffing and puffing. Kyle had his hand on his chest, counting his heart rate. Every torch we shambled by alighted the dark recesses of the impeding Tower. At every shadow and cackle and rustle, we all jumped, fumbling at our belts and backs.

Yet nothing.

"What do we know about the Tower of Babel?" I questioned Kyle, who was perched beside an arched opening for a window. The stormy world outside this dark thing was shuddering, blowing at us a hailstorm of embers and pale cinders.

"Aside from the quick blurb in the Old Testament, we have no clue what it's like," he said, wheezing. Cartman was nearly crying, hobbling up behind us. Stan was wiping his brow, glancing up. He seemed to train his eyes on something.

"Wait, look! If we climb a few more cases, I think we reach a landing!" the raven pointed. We all followed his finger. Excitedly, we raced, bumping into each other, and tripping over our own feet. The prospect of a rest, or an end, was a delight to us all.

"H-How many stories do you think w-we climbed?" Eric sobbed in near joy. He was obviously rooting for the finale. Flames burst around us as we trekked, renewed at the idea of progress. True to his incredible eyesight, Stan was correct. As we rounded a corner, there was a doorway looming in front of us. I skidded across the smooth surfaced of the floor, smacking into the doorjamb in my haste.

Stan was right behind me, pausing to find more air to breath. Then Kyle was quickly attached to his back, colliding into him by accident. Cartman slowed considerably behind the three of us, taking a knee on a lower step, face purpling. I swiveled to see the curious and tired faces of my companions.

"Hey wait," I said, lightly puffing, "The Tower of Babel was a feat of ancient humans daring to reach the height of God in heaven. Do you really think this is even close to the top? We must have just reached a point of rest for travelers. There must still be a ways to go…" Cartman groaned, rolling on to his back.

"Dammit, Kenny's probably right," Kyle swore, pushing back loose curling strands of scarlet hair. Stan's brow crinkled in thought.

"Then this resting area could be dangerous," Stan mumbled to himself. He pulled out his gun silently, checking the cartridge. "Stick close to me, okay?" he whispered to Kyle. The redhead looked up, determined eyes admiring his best friend.

Deciding not to focus on the mushy-love aura between those two, I walked down a few steps, calling out to Cartman. "Get up, Lardbutt! We need you, just in case—"

"Yeah, yeah!" he shouted. His overly loud attitude was something we were all use to. However, as his irate words bounced off the stony walls, it severed some sort of unknown tension hanging in the air. Hair was rising on the back of our necks. I noted Kyle rubbing his furiously from the corner of my eye. We all turned our heads this way and that, searching blindly in the gray and black Tower for something.

There came a reaction to Cartman's voice. In some unknown distance there came a tumultuous roar. Uneasy, I clasp on to the banister. The sound was shaking the very foundation of the Tower. Dust fell from the flooring and stairs above our heads, and swirled ominously in the mysterious wind. The obtrusive and ugly flames flickered wildly.

Kyle's spiteful tone rang out, "What the hell did you do now?"

"I didn't do anything!" Cartman yelled back.

The rumbling and the shaking was coming closer. That was when I realized whatever it was making this racket was probably on a crash course to our destination. It reminded me of something out of a nightmare. Cautiously, gripping the railing hard in my hands, I peered over the banister. Shadows were lurching and twisting around the several flights of stairs we just ascended. A boorish, blood colored light was swelling from the depths of the Tower.

"Fuck me with a spatula—" I breathed out. I spun back to my friends. "Run! _Now_!" With a burst of adrenaline, I sprinted up the steps, motioning for Cartman. "We have company coming!"

Cartman struggled to his feet, much like a blob of jello, and jumped up the steps two at a time. Stan grasped Kyle's arm, pushing him in front and through the doorway. We entered into a flat surface of a long corridor. Columns of black, icy statues of bricks and bodies and human arrogances decorated the way. As the thunderous rumbling made its way ever nearer, we panicked, looking around for the next flight of stairs.

"This place is impossible! How big is this bloody Tower?" I demanded, rushing past scattered building blocks.

"There, Ken!" Stan pointed. Through the decrepit scenery we hurried, casting fearful looks behind us. I followed the two lovers, past cobwebs, and low burning bonfires that lit the way unhelpfully. "See! A doorway!"

"Catch up, Cartman!" I hollered behind me. Amazing, Cartman kept to our pace (looking worse for the wear, of course).

"Screw you guys! I wanna go _hooooome_!" he answers.

"The only home you'll see is Heaven if you don't—" Kyle is cut off violently as he has a collision with Stan's backside for the second time in five minutes. He's halting, sneakers screeching at the effort, and as the torches in the doorway flare to life, I see why he's stopping.

A yawning chasm of several feet is between the stairway and us.

"Shit!" Stan curses. He scans quickly for some way across. There's a molding scaffolding scrap a yard or two from us. "Hurry! We'll build a bridge!" He and Kyle scramble, pulling it toward the stairs. I do my best to help lift it over the huge gap. Cartman's was still trying to find his second wind, leaning against a crumbling pillar.

By the time we have it secure enough, the brunet wondered over to us, nodding at our handiwork. Stan boldly tries it first, walking out to the middle, hugging the miraculously sturdy roping. "C'mon, Kyle!" he waves first. Tentatively, the Jew inches out, and the ancient wood creaks under the pressure. Stan has to ease closer to the stairs, but one hand is outstretched, ready to grab Kyle's once he is close enough.

Their hands entwine, almost sweetly, and while there is a moment where everyone breathes in relief, it is soon interrupted by an earth quaking bellow. Kyle starts, bumping into Stan's chest in fright. Precariously, the makeshift bridge is shifting, moving across the floor ever so slightly. Stan instantly surges forth, propelling Kyle into the secure landing of the staircase. His hand flies out to me next, "Hurry, Kenny!" he orders.

I'm starting forward, when that bloody light floods the back of the entire landing area. I pivot around, eyes widening at the sight of a giant being; fire without smoke. Blacker than sin and devilish looking. It's seething, powerful, and searching for us.

"Lord have mercy," Kyle gasps. I can only nod. It's evil head turns toward us, and a serpentine tongue flickers out. It's hoofed feet stomp, cracking the already rotting ground, moving in on the kill. It's knocking down columns, snorting, and snarling. The ground is unstable and I can't quite keep steady.

That was when the board snapped. A splintering crack! makes me jump in surprise. My head whipped back to Stan. There's a second of realization, then slow motion. He lunges toward the stairs, kicking off the scaffolding and reaching for purchase in the entrance to the doorway. Kyle falls to his knees, catching him, and falls backwards. I try to calm my heart, as Stan and Kyle, safe on the steps shakily raise to their feet a split second later. Shaking my head, I look back to Cartman. "We're going to have to—"

His cold, sure eyes meet mine. It makes me loose the will to speak. "Go on without me."

"What?"

"You heard me," he declares. I look from him to the hulking demonic thing bee lining to us.

I shake my head, "No, Cartman, we're all—"

"I'll be fine. Don't worry, you have others to save," he said, nodding stiffly behind me.

"Listen, I don't have time to argue!" I got in his face, doing my damnedest to intimidate him.

"Neither do I!" Cartman scoffed, and grabbed the back of my parka, hefting me up. He tossed me across the chasm, and I yelped, arms and legs flailing. Stan and Kyle caught me effortlessly. I wriggled to a standing position, stretching my arms behind me for the sword I brought. Evilly, Cartman saluted me with the gleaming blade. "You don't need this do you?" he rhetorically inquired.

"Cartman! You fool!" I screamed, throat hoarse. That monster was closing in on him.

"Kenny," Kyle begged next to my ear. He and Stan were holding me back. I ignore it. "Kenny, he's giving us time to outrun this thing."

"B-But he'll die!"

"He knows…" Stan said. Cartman was smirking in the darkness. He turned his overly broad back to us. He was a sight to be seen next to this monster from the darkest pits of the abyss. "He knows."

It was vain to wrestle with the super best friend pair. They dragged me up the steps, until eventually, I ran on my own. Angry and pathetic tears clouded my vision.

If you would have told that one day Cartman would sacrifice himself for the good of the world, for the betterment of Stan, Kyle, and my survival, I would have thought you were on crack. Then, if you told me that I would have felt this horrid, this guiltily, this unable to help save him, I would have told you check yourself into a padded white room… because you've lost it.

Or I've lost it.

It's probably the second one.

…

It had to be several thousand feet to the ground, I calculated, staring straight out from my resting spot. I was panting, rubbing at my stinging eyes by some crumbling opening meant to be a window. Outside this Tower was the curving, volcanic looking landscape. The sky was awash in melting grays and soft, tempting reds. Barren, rocky, and unforgiving—that's what it was. A lonesome sort of hell, I thought. The wind was simply mean; cutting through me, chilling me to my rattling bones. Long fingers gripped my shoulder when I sniffled none too quietly.

I kept telling myself it was the thinning air and cold atmosphere we drew closer to with every rickety stone step. I shouldered the comforting hand off, turning away from the morbid scenery.

"How far from the top do you think we are?" I asked. Kyle's green eyes wavered in the poisonous mood lighting around us. He reached out again, and I dodged effortlessly.

"Kenny, it's not—" he tried but I shook my head.

"I'm fine," I declared, and even to me it sounded sketchy. Stan lingered a few steps below us, looking back and forth. I avoided his eyes as well. "Cartman made his choice, and I shall not waste my breath sobbing for his stupidity."

"Even so," the raven said, galloping over scattered remains of buttresses, "He left you weaponless."

"I don't need one, I can heal," I said. Kyle and Stan shared a furtive dubious look. I waited a space of a heartbeat, but neither one made the move to correct my logic. Perhaps if I ignored my forced mortality, it would not be so much of a curse, as a blessing. Slowly, I understood what it meant to be powerless. Strangely, this is something I am not use to. Ever since I was a child… I could always fix myself, save the day… Save the people I care most about.

I don't even like Cartman, but I was starting to truly come to terms with the situation.

"We need to keep moving. Butters is in more danger the longer we chat," I spat. I was climbing, breathing out through my mouth heavily. I heard the sighs of exhaustion behind me following.

"Hasn't it been a lot longer since the last time?" Stan whined.

"Well, when we reached the last rest stop, we weren't tired. Plus, I wouldn't trust time that exists outside of time and space…" Kyle replied. I was marching forward, barely listening to the conversation.

Not that I had to worry much, the last word uttered was, "True…"

The continuing trek was an eerie, penetrating silence that seemed to want to smother us all to oblivion. It was like the air around us grew thicker, visible. Drifting and wafting…

Sadly, it took me a few flights to realize the air in front of my face _was_ shivering. There was a smoky haze, wafting down from an open archway this time. In my dreaded, descriptive musings, I didn't anticipate a doorway to the resting-area before it was almost upon us. My hole-filled-Converses squeaked to a stop, and soon, I was flanked by the Super Best Friends.

The three of us stood on a single step, gazing into the dark, smoky interior with a pervasive yearning, yet ever present wariness. I gulped, watching the dusty opal haze eek out, enticing us to enter the impressive second level. There wasn't much movement for a moment, and in fact, I felt almost too lazy to speak. The thought of opening my mouth was hard enough to let float in my brain; suffice to say it took more the all of my willpower to actually move my tongue into the correct positions to develop English words.

"What now?" I asked, sounding sluggish.

Kyle barely shrugged.

Stan was just blinking into the unknown.

"… Keep moving," I demanded, and my lips twitched at the force of the words. I pushed through the haze, which hit less like airy tendrils and more like steel bars—rusted, but nonetheless, thick and solid when you hit them.

The redhead grasped the back of my jacket, tailgating me, and perhaps using me like a shield or sled dog. Stan profoundly closed his eyes, and broke forward, easily slicing through the misty door before I could reach it. I followed his silhouette unquestioningly, and gratefully.

It wasn't dark, simply, hard to see past the opium ambiance. How Stan weaved past structural pillars, and stepped over cascades of debris was beyond me. He never seemed to open his eyes. Truth be told, it was pretty cool. Awesomely cool, even.

"How can you be doing this…?" I asked, moving my mouth precisely, almost coughing out the words so that they would come out.

"I can feel a presence in this room," he responded. If I had the strength, I would have frowned.

"Where?" I managed to inquire. My head would not allow me the ability to move it around and look, and a few minutes later, I was finally aware that I would not be able to see anyone in such an oppressive cloud anyway. The odd shimmering air would not even allow me build fear at the prospect of my slowly failing mental capabilities.

"Just be quiet," he said. It wasn't hard. My mouth sealed itself, almost in relief.

I felt like I was wading through mud. Lifting my legs, bending my knees… all of it was troublesome, cumbersome… just so unbelievably difficult. My steps became smaller and smaller. Eventually, I became conscious to the fact I was merely standing in, what seemed to me, a shifting and dragging puddle of vapor.

Soon, the core of my body was feeling tired. My right knee shook with the effort of staying straight. Then my left was quaking. I felt my spine slacken. Have you ever seen a bag of flour suddenly give way to the power of gravity? It sort of slumps to the side, then, in tiny movements, folds under itself and just crashes down, and then the kitchen floor is then just covered (every tiny nook and cranny) in soft white powder… Yeah, that's what was happening to me.

I forgot I was me for a second. I just kept thinking, _Man, I'm about to spill over any second now_! Well, however many seconds later happened, and I collapsed in on myself. I thought I was going to burst my seams, and blood and guts would come out of me like I was a sack of flour (as I mentioned before).

Lucky for me, there was a cautious, watchful arm that literally appeared from the haziness, wounding over my shoulders. I blinked, and blinked, and blinked. How my eyes were still open, I'm not very positive about the reason. I was so out of it; I honestly think I couldn't find the strength to flutter my lids. My baby blues were staring straight out into the white haze of oblivion, like the blind or the dead. It was an experience very outside one's own idea of mind and body. My head barely tilted up, and I recognized dark strands of hair arranged around bold blue eyes that matched a bold blue hat. My lips parted to make a name that I couldn't quite remember.

I saw a slight body tossed over one of his shoulders, and the bright fire colored head caught my attention. "Kenny," his voice was sure of itself. It sounded odd to the uncanny nothingness about me. This noise that was my name seemed an entirely alien thing to me.

"Stan…" I responded, more out of muscle memory than anything. His mouth quirked up—smile, he is smiling—and he gave a sharp nod.

"I'm leading you to the way out," he said. Those words made no sense, none at all. I was struggling to comprehend them. First, there were concepts of self and removed self (_I'm_ and _you_). Then something about being in one state and then another (_out_ versus _in_… but what the hell was _in_, exactly?). Last, I couldn't figure out what the other was doing (_leading_? Why?).

For some reason, I nodded anyway. Really, I was just copying an action he made, then forgot I nodded at all. He slung his arm under mine and heaved me up. We tottered our way across a vast expanse of numbing and odorless opaque smog. It felt like I should have been absorbed into it.

As we moved onward though, I was able to feel my pinky toe again, and then, my big toe, and my foot, and it shocked me all the way up to my shin and knee. I nearly hung off of Stan—my good childhood friend!—and without compliant, he heaved my ass through the murky second level. We were nearing a door when the ground under our legs—_I have legs! These fuckers are amazing! Look! Look! I'm fucking walking!_—quivered. I lurched up to a standing position, feeling more sober than I could remember in the last few minutes. "What the hell…?" I questioned. My fingers were gripping the collar on Stan's sweaty t-shirt. Stan glanced over. I vaguely wondered when he opened his eyes. The last I had seen, he was gallivanting about like a blind man.

"Back to your senses, yet?" he asked. I scrunched my brows, unwilling to inhale the air around us. It seemed to dance, grabbing and pulling at all of my sore limbs. Did I fall back there?

"I guess…" I said, uncertain. Stan pulled me, and I wrenched myself free of the vaporous hold my body, albeit much more ungracefully than he. "What is with this smoke?"

"It's not smoke," he answered shrewdly, "But an entity. It's as alive as you or me, and hopefully, Kyle."

"Kyle?" I inquired. I caught a glimpse of my other friend—Oh! _Kyle_!—draped on his back. There was a gash running across his brow and down to his cheek, creating a slice in his eyebrow. He was out cold.

"His physical pain was enough to snap the hold it had on me. With skin-to-skin contact, I'm able to distinguish myself from it, and you from it—and navigate the dead space around its essence…" he explained.

I tried to wrap my head around the idea, and all I could come up with was, "Like how a bat can 'see' with sonar?"

"Basically," he grunted.

"But, being in the middle of this creature—"

"Entity."

"Fine, entity… shouldn't you be the most susceptible to it's allure?"

"I am; that's how I know what it wants," he said. I turned to him as the looming door made its way steadily closer. He knew I didn't want to ask… but I had to know. "It wants to ensnare people… feeding off people's life force. In a way, this thing is vampire entirely."

"Cloud-Vampire? Seriously? Like the Star Trek: TOS Episode?" I said. Stan shrugged.

"I don't make the empathy-vampire rules," he said, "I just explain them."

"And you did a crap job!" I accused. I felt a headache coming on. If this smoke was an actual being of some kind and wanted to feed off of people… then how could we get it to leave us alone? Aside from Butters at the peak, we three were the only living creatures it could drain energy from.

Of course, as I was debating our options, (internally mind you) Stan laughed at me in an almost self-deprecating way. I glanced up, somewhat confused, before I recalled he could probably sense, or hear, or feel my turbulent emotions and whatnot.

"Listen, Ken," he said and I felt the need to snap back with _No, you listen, bitch_! I didn't get to snap back, but I saw my response flashing across his face like he had been stung by some kind of frightful insect. "Kyle's seriously hurt, we can't leave him defenseless in this dense cloud of hate."

"Obviously," I commented. My foot scraped across a stone, and I looked down, panicked for a pure second, thinking I was about to tumble into a gorge. However, our threesome had just reached the doorway to another set of spiraling staircases. It surprised me, because I hadn't noticed our creeping closeness to the door. Stan, aside from experiencing my own reactions, seemed more knowledgeable. It should have been unsettling, but I had a far worse suspicion cropping up.

"Lilith is after you," he said, shifting Kyle's dead weight into my chest. Instinctively, I cradled his body. He was not as light as you would expect, but then again, I was still dealing with another man here.

"I know that, but I don't know—"

"You can't fight this thing," he said loudly, certain. I growled, lifting the unconscious Jew bridal style. My arms wanted to protest, but I would have none of it.

"Why does no one let me get to finish my thoughts?" I hissed. Stan reached into his back pocket and pulled out his revolver, checking the safety. My brows rose up, and I scanned the area around us. "How are you gonna fight this entity if its nothing more than haze?"

"I'm not fighting… well, not in the conventional sense," he admitted. I wanted to say more but Stan leaned down, running his hands through tangled red curls. He wiped the trickling, sticky rivets of blood away from closed green eyes. There was a second where he paused. I'm not an empath, so I cannot imagine what he was feeling, what he desired, in that exact moment, but when he looked back up to me, he was prepared. "Get him as far away as you can in the next minute. Take him with you. Don't leave him… okay?"

"I…" my mouth was dry. I felt oddly humbled.

"You have to promise me, Kenny!" Stan demanded. I backed up, onto a step and nodded fiercely. This time, my mouth didn't want to work, simply because I couldn't find any words in it. His expression softened, and he took a shuddering breath. "Okay… Okay. Keep running. Don't stop, no matter what you hear."

"Okay…" I slipped out in a dumb whimper. I wish I could say that in the last few seconds I had with Stan, I had said something of consequence, something unfathomably epic and heroic. I wish I had been braver. That guy was my eyes for a while, remember? He was the one who had this unquestioned leadership, and I admired that quality about him. Stan… he knew sacrifice, and it was scary, right then.

I won't lie, I won't hide behind some lame excuse like, "I had a promise to keep" because I didn't. I couldn't make his stupid promises. The failing truth was, I had no intention of arguing with him… I knew he had to stay behind. I knew he would have to keep that vampiric entity distracted. I hated it—I loathed it. It was such a depressingly beautiful trap she laid out before me.

Systematically, she was going to pluck every good, commendable thing from my world.

I couldn't do anything… except run away.

The thing that I despised more than Lilith, more than my ineptitude, more than finding myself alone, more than the gunshot echoing to me as I ran with hiccupping intakes of painful air up the staircase, was the fact that Stan had to wallow in my emotions along with me. It wasn't fair to him…

Then, in all honesty, he would argue, that it wasn't my fault.

Which everyone knows that the above statement is a blatant lie.

…

I can't say how long I ascended those God-awful limestone steps that were dirtier than sin. I can just say that eventually, my adrenaline was teetering out like a cut fuel line… my stamina had taken a serious shot, and I was trudging on before I tripped on a loose shoelace that snapped under my cruddy soles. My knee banged the flooring, and I felt the stone crack, giving in due to age. I maneuvered around it, and perched closer to a wall, under a sconce of putrid flames.

I was huffing, rocking Kyle in my arms lightly, and filling my lungs with ages-old oxygen reluctantly. Incredibly, I was unaware that in my slightly shocked state, I was softly muttering something. It wasn't until I stumbled over my words, searching for the right thing to hum, that I noticed it.

I bit my lip, looking down to the dozing Kyle. Somehow, I propped him up onto the wall, just a step above me. I yanked at the bottom of my shirt, ripping it to tatters. From there I bundled it up carefully, and used that to mop up congealed blood, and if I was lucky, sweat and not tears. This time, I would acknowledge I was crying and sniffling like a baby.

"C'mon, Ky…" I said, "C'mon… wake up."

The action of sweeping the ragged remnants of my shirt over his face was soothing more for me than the unconscious Kyle. I felt myself becoming calm as he looked less damaged. He was merely resting, I tried to tell my brain that screamed evil things like, "_Coma! Trauma! Brain Impairment_!"

"How can I get your lazy ass up?" I asked with a wavering tone. I folded the disgusting and stained bundle in my hands to a clean portion, and repeated the sweeping process. Thinking to myself, I tried to visualize the nasty gash healing, sewing itself up, and disappearing into flawless, unblemished skin.

As this image replayed in my mind like a broken record, I started to sing pieces of something I vaguely remembered. Something so pretty… but so lonely.

"_Your silence makes me hurt…"_

Kyle's brow twitched under the cloth. My hand was trembling, and I knew my face was streaked with heartache. It was unbearable. I didn't want this friend injured so violently. He was clasping onto me while we wandered aimlessly in that hellish smog… I have no idea when he fell…

I wasn't going to let him fall into a shadowy sleep now. I had to wake him up. I kept thinking that, focusing on erasing that terrible cut. Every time my hand pulled back, I could see less and less of that horrid disfigurement.

"_I know it destined to go wrong… you were looking for the great escape to chase your demons away…"_

It was such a sweet melody, a delectably sweet melancholy…

Kyle made a noise, his face turning away, out of my reach. I simply reached in the extra length and went about cleaning his wound. As I sang out, making sure I was projecting my sorrow and relentless remorse, he relaxed against the cool marble walls. He sighed…

A few more swipes and I pulled back… "_Here I am… left alone…Siiiiiiilee…ence…_"

Kyle's lids fluttered open; those bright green eyes as intelligent and determined as ever. Astounded I sat back on my hunches, staring at the blank, unworn flesh on his forehead and cheekbone. I would have reached out to touch it to be sure, but I was unwilling to jinx it.

"I-I'm so sorry…" I said, voice cracking. Kyle's eyes swiveled, taking in our surroundings. Or aloneness. The bloody mess of my shirt. The fatigue in my heart. Wordlessly, I saw the realization reach his entire body. He seemed to stiffen for a fraction of a second. All too fast, he went lax again.

"All is forgiven…" he said.

He never batted an eyelash. Didn't cry. He took a minute, sitting there, leaning on the wall. Then, he stood up, unshaken, offering me a hand like the good friend he was. I was speechless, just staring at him from my lowly position on the floor. Kyle looked as healthy as could be, a bit dusty, but otherwise, full of vitality like the spry teenager he is. I tried to hold back my watering gaze from his.

"Not all tears are in vain," he whispered. I grabbed his hands, and the resounding clap of our palms meeting startled the otherwise quiet and grim world about us. He tugged me onto my feet. I stood for a moment, weeping without words.

How Kyle could understand baffled me, but at the same time, I found it grounded me. The reality of my unreality was very much settling into my flesh, burning me down to the soul. I…

I had to continue on.

So, this time, although in a deliberate pace, we made our way up the staircase. One foot in front of the other. I was not rushing to my doom. Kyle was beside me, lost in his mind, or in grief, or with simply nothing on his mind to talk about. I pray it was the last one. We both knew there was no longer a time to feel guilty. We had to get to the top. That was our priority. Yet… the silence.

The human condition fears silence—_I_ fear silence. I can't deny this. When there is silence, between two people, or in nature; it makes us uneasy. That's why when in horror movies, we become on edge when there is no longer background noise. There should always be noise. Not only in life, but also in our minds. We're never quiet, never silent, at least, not really, ya know?

But, this unspoken journey between Kyle and me, to whatever waited over our very heads… this was not silent either. That wind that would not leave us be, that followed too closely, too coyly, was still whistling away, and I'm convinced laughter was in the air… but I could not find it as horrifying as before. Not when I had the means to change it.

"I'm tired," I mentioned. Tired was an understatement. I was weary to my marrow.

"I know," Kyle said. We were still walking up and up and up and up and up…

"I don't think I can do this," I confessed. I spared a glance to my friend. He was staring at his feet, taking care not to falter on the staircase. Kyle was always careful like that.

"I know… I know," he said. He raised his head, glancing at the daunting stairs above us this time. "But… it's like those great stories you hear, Kenny."

"Stories?" I parroted, unable to do much else beside cast my eyes to the bursts of flames, to open windows that showcased the black and diabolic looking spires of mountains, to the holes of fallen bricks and clumsily shaped windows…

"The stories you heard when you were a child… The ones that stayed with you, even though you were too young to understand why. You see, Ken, those were the stories where the heroes had lots of chances to go back, only… they didn't. No matter the danger, they kept going. You always wondered how, how could they, after they had seen so much bad? Then, you realized they knew something you didn't…"

From the whistling wind, and with tired eyes, I looked back to him. "And what do they know, Kyle?"

"There's still some good in this world," he said, squeezing my cursed hand, "And its worth fighting for."

I felt myself smile, and flashes rushed to my mind of Cartman, battling the hulk of a demon somewhere in the pits of this despicable place, of Stan undeterred as he dared that entity feed off of his pained body, and of Butters, locked in a cage, and defiantly clutching the bars, hoping for rescue with all of his naïve little heart.

I gave Kyle a nod in response.

It seemed like I should have known that all on my own.

…

"What do you think waits before us now?" Kyle questioned, glowering into the darkened doorway of the third resting area. We stood at the step before it, studying the curling scratches up the marble columns. The redhead reached out to touch it in curiosity, but my arm flew out, blocking him.

"The danger has increased every time we reach another resting-area…" I warn, eyes sweeping the languid shapes and shadowy distance in front of us, "We can't touch anything, and we have to be hyperaware of what's around us, understood?" I glance to the side, and Kyle quickly meets my eyes. He gulps, but gives me a nod. The bat he carried before is unhooked from his belt loop easily, and he clutches it. I drop my arm, finding it hard to not crouch as I enter the third flat level of the Tower of Babel.

The instant we were inside the area, I felt a coldness sink in through the pores of my skin. It was like being dipped in an ice bath. I gasped, finding that the very air seemed to burn like an artic breeze all the way to my lungs. Shivering, I folded my arms over my chest trying to sooth the goosebumps cropping up all over my body.

"Feels like we stepped into a freezer!" the genius at my back exclaimed through chattering teeth.

"Y-Yeah…" I said. We hadn't made it very far inside, and I waited for the explosion of sickly green flames with every inching step I took. Of course, it took several alarming feet into the wintry darkness before I noticed that the lights behind us were fading, and no new light was going to be given to us. I halted to a stop, spinning around, and bumping into Kyle. "We have to go back."

"What? We can't go back," he declared, pushing me off of him.

"No, Kyle, I mean we have to grab a torch or something," I explained, barely seeing the puffs of my breath hovering before my face. In the dim light, the glint of his steel bat was pale… proof of how far we had already made it inside the rest area.

"You're right," he agreed, and his footsteps sounded louder than they should have been. Either the echo was spectacular in this room, or, more presumably, my other senses had immediately heightened due to lack of eyesight. "Let's hurry though. I got a bad feeling about th—"

He was cut off by the sound of stone scraping stone. Both of us jumped, and one of us (probably me) might have yelped in surprise. My eyes shot to the last flickering light of flame from the staircase we had just climbed. A thud resounded, menacing, as the light was swiftly snuffed out.

In the pitch black dark, I felt a sweat break out despite the freezing wind that swept over us.

"What was that…?" Kyle stupidly asked. His voice was so quiet, like he was drifting away of a sea of darkness. For a moment, fright of being left completely alone in the swimming blackness shot through me, gluing my feet to the floor. I had to shake it off though. My hand darted out to where I had heard that tiny question, and approximately where I had last seen Kyle to be. My clammy palm made immediate contact with a slim chest. "Ow! Kenny!"

"Sorry! Sorry!" I apologized. I fumbled in the dark, clasping onto his arm. "Just don't let go of me. We have to make it out of here together."

"Agreed," the Jew declared, and he clutched on tight. "Do you think it's just this level that's without light, or will the rest of the way be in total dark?"

My stomach lurched at the idea of trying to navigate the rest of the perilous way to the very top of this ghastly tower. Just the thought of not knowing, stumbling up steps and into more levels…! If the steps were even where they were supposed to be. What if I tumbled off an edge? Fell through a hole? I could be followed, surrounded, or ambushed by something vile and never know it was coming. In fact, all I would ever know would be this dark and this cold that permeated around me.

It was a fucking _scary_ thought.

I had to breathe, had to shut up all those pesky little thoughts. And let me tell you, it sounds so much easier than it was. I was on the verge of mass hysterics. In the kind of sinister shadows I was surrounded by—smack dab in the wilderness, midnight black kind of darkness—it was hard to control the urge to start running wildly, screeching like some sort of deranged psycho. You just didn't want to be in it. I was claustrophobic in that black place. It was awful, and fucked up, and I knew that my enemy was simply waiting for me to lose it.

So, I had no choice but to reign in my instincts, and confidently tell Kyle, "I don't know. But we have to keep moving forward." Meanwhile I thought, _Wherever the hell forward _is_._

Using his bat like a cane, Kyle swept the ground, and we shuffled onward with the grace of a one legged bear on a unicycle. Several times I expected to plummet to my doom, or smash my head on a support pillar, or become separated from Kyle and a monster lurking somewhere would swallow one or both of us whole. I shuddered, thankful for the tiny amount of body heat generated between the two of us. Freezing to death in this place was also a constant concern.

Lost in my worries, I hadn't noticed the continued clacking of metal on stone, until Kyle spoke up. "I think we ran into a wall."

"A wall?" I repeated, hopeful. I wall might mean a doorway nearby.

"I think…"

We both moved closer and touched the obstacle in front of us. With fluttering hands as far we could reach while still attached, we searched, fingertips numbing from the cold. I pulled back, tapping my fingers together. The wall felt… strange. That's the only word that kept popping up.

"My fingers feel weird," I said, tapping my digits together. They stuck, and then they released lazily, "What about yours?"

"Can't feel them no more…" Kyle mumbled. I stepped back slightly, narrowing my eyes. I couldn't see anything. Not a damn thing. I might as well have been walking about with my eyes stapled closed. Still… I hoped I might have been able to notice _something_. A sigh rumbled beside me. "Well, it's definitely a wall."

"Okay… But which wall? A back wall? A side wall?" I inquired. The warm arm wrapped around mine trembled.

"That's the problem. We won't know unless we split up…"

"Whoa! What?" I exclaimed, and tugged Kyle closer, "What are you talking about? We're not letting go of each other!"

"If we don't, we'll be stuck bumbling about this insipidly large room looking for a door we might miss!" my companion barked. He yanked away, but I stubbornly clung on.

"Kyle, I'm serious!" I pleaded like a child, "I can't wander in the dark, alone." A snort of amusement floated past me, but I ignored it. "Please?" I was trying, pushing with all my luck.

"C'mon you big baby," he said, "It's only the dark."

"But it might not be…" I whispered, desperately.

"You'll be fine," he said, too boisterous for my taste. Finally, he slipped from my grip. I tried to reach for him, but I heard him skittering away into the suffocating dark. I slapped my hands on the walls, feeling a chill rush through me like an electrical shock. "Now search the opposite way! Call me if you find the door!"

He voice had disappeared from me. If I wasn't digging my nails into the wall, I could have sworn I might have been dissolving into the shadows as well. The only way to relocate Kyle was to find a door; otherwise, I'd probably chase him all around the blasted room.

Knowing my luck, the door was probably right beside me.

Of course, as I skirted the wall carefully for a few feet, I was disheartened to find out the door was not _right_ beside me. Still, I was dumbly sliding along, fumbling up and down, and feeling a hiccup of panic welling into my throat.

I do not know if it dread, or loss of the sense of time, or what… but I was getting tired, and every move sideways was only succeeding in making me more distressed. I just kept thinking, _What if we're locked in here? In the dark… Forever?_

So yes… I was not very put together. Somehow, I stopped paying attention to what I was doing (which is not helpful because it was suppose to keep me calm). I hadn't realized that my hand slipped off the wall. I careened into darkness. My feet tripped all over themselves, and I went tumbling headfirst. I smacked into an inclined, irregular plane. Leaping to my feet, I raced up the plane, before tumbling again in my blind hurry.

However, when I went down this second time, a flash of irritating emerald bout of light blinded me. Warmth flared up around me, stunning my previously frosted body. It took more minutes than I am comfortable admitting, but I laid on the dingy, stone steps of the staircase that lead upwards to the peak of the tower. My mind blanked for a second while my heart skipped a few beats, before I realized where I was. Not in the enclosing, stifling, velvet dark of that awful third resting area… but on the next set of stairs.

See?

I told you it was my luck that I'd find the damn door.

I just had to go back to get Kyle now.

Hopping down the steps, two to several at a time, I grinned raucously. Out of breath, but still bouncing, I rested heavily on the doorjamb, screaming, "I found it! I found it!"

"Really?" Kyle's excited voice reverberated back. "Excellent! I'm coming!"

"Well, hurry up!" I called, actually stepping into the third level. Just the tips of my shoes poked in. However, when that small action occurred, it set off some sort of chain reaction. Next thing I knew, hundred of torches lit up, flames leaping energetically. I lifted my hand up to my eyes… and was startled by a chorus of hissing.

Now, this next scene is not for the faint of heart.

Do you recall when I felt that oddness on the wall? Yeah… in that very instant I found out what, _exactly_, I was touching oh-so casually. It was hundreds, thousands, of web-like stretched pieces of human skin, blood, and muscle. Startled, I had jumped back at a waft of decay. It hit me bad; choking me and clogging up my nostrils. I looked down to my hands, seeing spongy stuff and brown clots littered across my palms.

I tried scrubbing my hands on my jacket, swallowing back my vomit. I made a move forward, but shrieked when something bounded down from the ceiling like a yo-yo. It was a cadaver. Twisted and mangled, bloated, face awash, and hissing with rheumy eyes. It reminded me of a human spider—arms and legs bent, and mouth open. What gave me the courage to punch it square in its flared nostrils was more adrenaline than anything else. Fight or flight instinct. In that moment, I fought it off. The skin squished under my knuckles, and the bridge of the nose cracked, and it made a painful snarl when it reared back. This time I kicked it, snapping it's neck, and it broke off from a netting of tendons and other corpses, rolling along the floor brokenly.

"Kyle!" I screamed, about to rush in.

"Kenny!" he called back. I spotted him off to the side swinging away at other descending, gruesome things. He bashed what looked like a Dr. Frankenstein example of Siamese twins straight down the middle. It split the pocketed seam of flesh stitched together haphazardly. "I'm fine! Go on without me! I'll catch up!"

"What? I can't!" I protested. These things were swarming around the redhead. Like a madman, he wielded that bat, striking without mercy at the nearest zombie-like thing advancing on him.

"Listen!" he huffed, without sparing me a single glance, he was too focused surviving. I saw a dark thing crop up over his shoulder, spittle flying.

"Behind you!" I pointed, and gasping, he spun with all his body weight. He cracked that monstrous thing right at the junction where neck meets shoulder. The head popped off cleanly, spewing brackish blood in its wake. In that mist, he took the chance to dart away. "That's right! Keep moving!"

"Mother _fucker_!" he was panting, finally looking over to me sadly. I found it hard to keep his overtly intelligent gaze. "You have go, Kenny… The next stop has to be the tower's summit. You have to face her alone."

"No…" I breathed. I wanted to argue, but suddenly, a thing sliding on the floor grabbed Kyle's ankle. He kicked it off with his other foot, and then slammed his bat down on the apex of its skull. He sent me one last glance, before racing down into the expanse, and a flood of eerie spidery human corpses followed him.

"Good luck!" were the last words he spoke to me.

…

My friends were all gone.

Each and every one of them… I lost them because—

Actually, I can't really say how or why I lost them. In one moment we all stood together, grinning, pressing forward… and in the other…?

First, Cartman fell behind.

Then, Stan joined him, sacrificing himself.

And, Kyle… Kyle knew he would suffer their same fate.

All three of them, somewhere in the depths below the decimated limestone and onyx and marble, they were fighting… right under my feet… my weary, weary feet.

They _fought—_no, they _are_ fighting… at this very second, not yet dead, please not yet dead—for me. _Me_. How could I have let them face such horrors alone? How can I still call myself their friend? How can I keep moving when I feel like I'm about to crumble like this god-forsaken tower?

I'm cradling my face in my hands, barely raising my legs as I walk up and up and up… and up for what has to be my unholy eternity. In this wretched place, I have sent my friends to what could only be their doom. The crazy she-demon who wallows in ecstasy at my shattering mind has captured the innocent youth I dared to fall for. I have killed violently. I have been mutilated.

I have been cursed to die… to never see the soft sunshine, feel the cool rain, hear a pleased lover's sigh, smell the scent of the fresh mountain air… or even to touch my lips against the ripe raspberry ones I dream about on the nights when I can remember my slumber-fantasies.

"And for what, Lilith?" I inquire caustically. That wild wind snaps against me through the lightening-burned ruins of stones. It still smolders as I emerge into the toppling, unfinished precipices. The stairs still twine dizzyingly into the bloody skyline that curves ominously around this stunted limbo. Her cackle that I am becoming familiar with is echoing, dancing about me.

My eyes trace up the stairway. Walls no longer enclose me, but the stones still bunch together, leading up to the summit, mysteriously without support. There are crashing waves, butting against the cliff the tower sits upon. My eyes widen when I realize, the Tower of Babel is an island, floating upon a treacherous gray sea that means to strike the volcanic landscape into nothingness.

"I see… So God not only created the many tongues of the world…" I hummed in a sort of grim bemusement, "But He sent the Tower to a plane where it would be remain untouched, withering away slowly, but surely."

"Yes…" a sultry voice answered. My head turned… I saw her in her magnificent glory.

She was seducing me, but perhaps that was her natural way of interacting. Through that gossamer gown, she was the epitome of female beauty… with soft curves, tall, and wanton. Her sharp face was framed by those waving locks that were too much like fire, like blood. With such a pale hand, she reached out to me, offering to help me up the last few feet. I did not move from my spot, my right leg paused on the step above me. The only thing that moved was our rustling clothes in the precarious torrents of wind at the height of the Tower.

"Why?" I demanded, hands clenched into fists.

"I believe that Yahweh has a soft spot for His creations," she purred smoothly, glancing down at the tower's vast expanse, "And by proxy, their creations."

"No," I said loudly. Her eyes—the eyes of a predator—flew back to me. I lifted my chin, arrogant. "Why me? What made you choose me?"

"That is what all ask in these times…" she murmured, and her enigmatic smile faded. She stepped down, closer to me. "Why _me_?" From her wafting skirt, the flash of scarred, yellow talons clacked against the stone pathway. Paralyzed, I held my breath. "Is that really all you have to ask?" that lovely smoky voice was gone, and only steel and hatred were left.

"Where's Butters?" I yelled, fierce, even though I knew quite well I was weaponless.

"Hmm? The young boy?" she questioned, smirking too widely, her teeth glinting.

"_Kenny_!"

His sweet voice drifted down to me, and I bolted past the wicked creature, disregarding her chuckle. My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest as I rounded the last corner, shouting, "I'm coming! I'm here—"

When I burst past the tar colored arch of the Tower's summit, my feet skidded over the uneven stone flooring. With flailing arms, I caught myself across iron bars of what looked like a rusting birdcage. Shackled, Butters was gripping the bolted doors. I shook at his imprisonment. When my flesh met the frozen iron, my palms sizzled, burning—and the mark on my hand flared bright. I hissed, pulling away.

"Kenny! You shouldn't have—"

"Shut up," I said between the painful gasps playfully, "Of course I'd come to get you."

"N-No, you don't understand!" he said, tears welling in his pretty blue eyes.

"You saved me once, remember? Don't I owe you one?" I teased. Butters shook his cornsilk head, obviously frustrated.

"No! Kenny, you're—" those same pretty eyes instantly turned into the size of saucers, and I suddenly felt pointed nails scratch my throat as a graceful hand encircled the front of my neck.

"Right where I want you…" Lilith whispered hotly into the shell of my ear. Butters whimpered for me. I felt stunned, all sensation flushing out of my body when I realized that this entire journey was a grave mistake. The greatest epic fail of my life.

"_This was all a trap…!"_

TBC…

**A/N:** **Feel free to skip this part, I'm just blowing off some steam.**

I wasn't gonna upload this until chapter 15 would be finished. But I just couldn't help it. You've guys have waited too long, ya know? Speaking of…

Oh em gee! How many years has it been since I updated this fic? Three? Yeah, I'm sorry it's been so long. Would you believe SAI actually had computer troubles each year? My computers—for some reason—like to f***ing die all the time. I almost lost a lot of fics, not to mention stories I had planned to publish.

Also, let it be noted the year of 2011 was the most stressful of my life. Family members going in and out of hospitals numerous times, two deaths, three engagements, a wedding, babies, divorces, graduations, car accidents, two moves across country… plus restraining orders and criminals (thefts and drugs—none by me… just around me, sadly). I won't even mention jobs and schools…

Ya know, my mother actually asked me the other day, "You still do fanfiction?"

"Yeah… Why?"

"Oh, just wondering when you're gonna sell out [in reference to writing cheap romance novels] and make some money so you can pay rent."

… Yeaaaaaaaaaaaah. It's been tough.

Wonder if that was reflected in my recent chapter?

Eh, probably. The chapter is roughly 25 pages long. That's the longest for any fic or oneshot I have ever written (however, for my own personal stories and for manuscripts, I have some material that would be closer to 200-300 pages).

WELL! That being said… drop me a review about the random epicness, and soon, the last chappie will be updated before you know it! It really helps right now. So! Until next time…

Please, never lose hope and Stand Your Ground [Within Temptation is the band to listen to during this Tolkien-inspired chapter].

—_**SteelAgainstIvory**_


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